Rebuilding the Field
by QueenRoyallt
Summary: Hermione Granger was more than prideful of her eleven-year-old daughter's future at Hogwarts. But, when her beloved Rose destroys the Quidditch field with a nasty, uncontrolled fiendfyre after being insulted by the youngest Malfoy, she's forced to help her daughter rebuild it with no one other than the Wizarding World's very own Draco Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Thought I would try my hand at Harry Potter since I have nothing better to do with my life. And because Harry Potter fans seem to be knowledgeable and totally worth the headaches. Now, I haven't read the books since elementary school, and I'm a college freshman. God knows I've seen the movies a lot, but I never paid attention to the minute details, which will probably show in my writing. It's no lost fact that I have plot issues. So thoughts and ideas would be greatly appreciated. Also, I don't write smut. I read it, but I don't write it. I say that you shouldn't write about something so personal if you've never experienced it, and since I haven't, I won't.**

 **I know that probably all the ideas I have have already been written, so if it seems as though I'm taking your work, know that archetypes exist and it's the main reason for creative plagiarism, and it is not my intention to do so knowingly. If you have done anything similar to this, then I guess my response is to say that great minds think alike or something. Shoutout to everyone who's tackled this kinda scenario, especially Lena Phoria and her beauty** _ **The Deadline**_ **, considering that I had this idea in my head long before I read her story and loved her take on it.**

 **While I love and respect Ms. Rowling for introducing and creating a world in which so many of us enjoy to this day, I sometimes wonder if, when she wrote the last book, she felt pressured and it wasn't what it should have been. The ending felt...rushed, and I got this idea after seeing a few of the "Career Poster" thing-ys on Pinterest the other day, specifically Tom Felton in a doctor's uniform (Can someone say "Murder me now while I hate that he's vacationing with his girlfriend Jade and is, like, 10 years older than me"?). And I realized that, while Ms. Rowling has answered questions about what happens after Hogwarts for everyone (such as Neville and Hannah getting married, etc.), some of them don't make sense:**

 **18 years was much too long.** _It is almost a given that after a war, lots of children will be born. It happened after World War I, WWII (they're called_ Baby Boomers _for a reason, people), etc, etc. Chances are, in reality, no matter how much everyone thinks Hermione would go back to school and everything, I think that since she could finally be with Ron, she jumped in whole-heartedly. Hermione may have been logical, but the whole reason she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw was because she was much more emotionally driven than most people think, and it was probably because of coming from a loving home. So, for all intents and purposes, my story follows canon somewhat, but only 11 years in the future._

 **Ron and Hermione wouldn't have lasted very long.** _Sorry, but you psychologically find yourself attracted to people you spend a lot of time with. There are biological consequences, too; I mean, close girlfriends, sisters, and mothers/daughters tend to run on similar menstrual cycles because of it. Hermione felt something towards Ron because she spent so much time with him. Also, Ron continuously exhibited childish behavior, and it wasn't because he was the youngest boy. It's just his personality, and I really doubt Hermione would be able to handle the amount of stress of a romantic relationship with him because she was always chastising him, similar to how a mother would treat a child._

 **Krum was actually influential to Hermione's development.** _Krum proved to Hermione that people actually_ saw _her, and it showcases just how much she actually_ feels _. And, I actually believe that they kept in close contact, and Hermione listened for his name on the radio just as much as Ron's and any of the other Weasley's._

 **Malfoy would not be involved in business.** _As much as it "runs in his blood," Malfoy was always a follower who showcased leader qualities, and he would need to be surrounded by people who would push him to be a leader, and being a Healer would do just that. He wasn't just Snape's favorite, and he didn't always use the "My father will hear about this" line. He often times came up with great wit that rivaled Hermione, and he was good at Potions. Therefore, he never would have spent time in Azkaban, especially since he denied seeing the Trio at his home... and if he was never involved in business then he wouldn't have been in Azakaban for fraud charges and stuff._

 **Astoria wasn't - isn't - a bitch.** _Even on the Harry Potter wiki (which probably isn't a good source) whoever had written the article claims that Astoria and her sister were never directly involved in Death Eater activities, and that they actually had no quarrels with Muggles. I think, that because so many people are hell-bent on always seeing Hermione as the good one, they don't see that it's possible that maybe, just maybe, she could be the problem._

 **I think you probably stopped reading this.** _So, I'm just gonna get on the with damn story._

 **Okay. Rant over.**

* * *

Hermione's chest hurt.

No, it wasn't because she was having a heart attack. Well, maybe she was. Or experiencing heartbreak. Something. Whatever it was, her chest hurt. It hurt like _hell_.

She watched, sandwiched between Harry and Ron, who was holding onto Hugo, Ginny slightly behind Harry, holding onto Lilly, as the train rolled away, carrying her eldest bundle of joy. Her brain flashed back to when she first held Rose, her little fingers wrapping around Hermione's index. She felt similar back then as she did now.

Prideful.

She wasn't nervous for her daughter, oh no. Rose was nothing like her parents: bull-headed like Ron or overly studious like Hermione. In fact, she was something else entirely.

An anomaly.

Rose was a cross between a hair bow wearing, pearl donning girly-girl and a broom riding, mud pie eating tomboy. In fact, she had just gotten off punishment from Hermione catching her drag-flying with James three weeks ago. " _It was Dad who told us about it_ ," she had whined after Hermione told her she was confined to the house until it was time to head to the Platform. Of course, since Hermione was always the bad cop, strict mother, she had no choice but to hold firm.

Ron had never felt Hermione's wrath quite like he did that day, and over the phone no less.

Now, as the train wheeled away, Hermione hoped her daughter would stick to the basics and not get into any trouble.

Harry would just tell her not to get caught. And, secretly, Hermione would've liked to tell her that too.

The noise of the families and friends who had come to see the train off slowly dissipated as families disapparated, flooed, or stepped away from the Platform. It was nice to see how, even after eleven years, things were noisily quiet. It was, of course, a juxtaposition, but it was one Hermione enjoyed greatly. The wizarding world had no Hitler-wannabes running around anymore, but there were plenty of oppressive aristocrats still running - well, attempting to run - the place. Hermione hated it, but someone had to deal with all of it, and Minister Shacklebolt had felt none other than Hermione Weasley - scratch that, now it was just Hermione Granger again - was the person for the job.

As the two families, one still joined and the other separated, walked towards the brick column, Hermione turned to her son. "Hugo, do you want to finish the week out with your father before you start school again? I have some things to do at work, and I know you want to see the Quidditch tournament with him." One thing still remained about Hermione, and it was her ability to remain mature and civil towards people, even her ex-husband. His inability to grow up and have motivation for his life had been blindly hidden from her for many years. Hermione played the part of a dutiful wife until she woke up one day realizing just how much her life sucked - and that was putting it nicely. Some days, she woke up hating the fact that the other side of the bed, which she constantly tried to sleep in the middle of, was cold and daunting towards her. She had shared a bed for so long of her life that she forgot how to sleep in a large bed by herself. Ginny told her to buy a smaller bed, but Hermione didn't want the off chance of bringing someone home - _ha!_ \- and having him run right out the door, laughing hysterically because of noticing how tiny her resting place was.

"Sure, I'll go home with Dad," Hugo answered, leaning into his father's side as they got ready to run through the portal. Hermione watched as Ron silently counted down, and they sprinted, disappearing through the brick, moulding into it as though it were just clay.

Hermione cracked her neck from side to side, stretching the rest of her limbs lazily in order to relax herself to get through the wall. It was something she had done every year since her first time going through. When she was eleven, she couldn't fathom how to get through an inanimate object like Professor McGonagall had proclaimed. And so, her father, who adored his daughter enormously, crouched down and told her softly to just relax. Stretch out, and calm down. It was what he did when he was about to run a marathon, and Hermione had learned his entire routine to train with him so she could be strong, just like her father. So, she did what he told her, and then sprinted for the wall like it was the finish line, and when she arrived on the other side, she had entered a whole new world that she had instantly fallen in love with.

Except this time, Hermione's entire system was thrown off.

As she leaned to her side, stretching her arms to the left around her head, letting them hang limply like her father had always told her to, she heard a cold, calculating voice behind her.

"About to run a marathon, Granger?"

Hermione twisted around slowly, ignoring the ache in her legs as they protested not having their turn to be stretched. She had missed out on her morning run from trying to make sure Rose was ready to go, and her body was going to murder her for doing a double dosage of cardio tomorrow. Thankfully she wouldn't have to worry about Hugo trying to scramble eggs by himself while she was out.

Sometimes being lonely at twenty-nine had its perks.

"No, just making sure you and all the other wizards had a nice view," she bit back, eyes widening as she realized how much older he was. Sure, they were the same age, but he had aged more than she had expected. His face was still pointed, but some of the edges had softened, and his hair was no longer gelled back like it had been. Of course, it had hung limply since sixth year, when he was too stressed about murdering an age old wizard than keeping up appearances. In true Malfoy fashion, he was dressed in a crisp black suit with a dark green button down. His pointed dress shoes glinted in the light just as much as the small silver chain around his neck did. Hermione squinted to see what the charm on it was - a dragon? A snake? A snake _choking_ a dragon? His eyes were as grey as ever, narrowing the longer he stared at her. His hands were in his pockets, suit jacket unbuttoned, tails flipped out around his sides.

And right beside him stood his beloved wife.

Well, ex-wife, actually. Hermione only knew the details because one of her coworkers was a former employee of the law firm that had handled the infamous Malfoy divorce at the utmost discretion. Of course, Hermione had more than happily obliged to listen when Maria decided, after three glasses of luscious red wine, to blab all about it. Apparently, the only reason they had wed was because of a clause in the inheritance papers for both the Greengrass and Malfoy lines: one male child by twenty, or no money. And, they had - _gasp_ \- leaned on Muggle technology to help them fulfill the clause. Hermione was well aware of the procedures involving artificial insemination, and since the inheritance papers had been the same since the beginning of the families, there was no specific statement of _how_ their heir was to be procured since such technology hadn't existed, even with magic. So, Maria had claimed, the pair - and their parents - had delved into the world of genetics and used a little dose of magic to make sure that the embryo created would be a boy.

Nine months later, Scorpius Malfoy had been born.

Three months after that, Astoria Malfoy was once again Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione thought it was smart. Typical of two Slytherins who knew that they didn't want to do the dirty work but wanted to obtain the same goal, but also very brave of them to attempt to throw off the inheritance papers like that. However, neither party would ever know of Hermione's admiration towards them for committing such acts.

Even eleven years after having a child, Astoria was still a vision. Her hair, dark and devoid of any frizz, waved elegantly down her back. Dressed in a well-tailored skirt suit, her black heels shined more than Malfoy's, and Hermione was actually jealous. Sure, she could afford such luxuries, but she had always preferred to take month-long vacations and enjoying activities like hang gliding, ziplining, and parasailing; she never found much joy in shopping, even if all the store managers from the wizarding world gave her things for free. What was the point of having money if you were never allowed to use it?

What annoyed and infuriated Hermione the most was how warmly the woman was smiling at her. She knew Astoria was like many of that generation of purebloods: blood didn't matter. In fact, Astoria worked as a fashion consultant for British Vogue, which also showed that she wasn't a normal elitist who used her inheritance money to order house elves around all day. She was just as much an anomaly to the wizarding world as Rose was to the Granger's and Weasley's, and Hermione squirmed to think about how much the two women were similar. All through her final year at Hogwarts she had heard how the sixth-year brunette Slytherin was coaching - _coaching_ \- even Slytherin's most well-known seeker in Quidditch strategies with a stomach the size of a house since her petite frame was carrying a Malfoy sized child.

Hermione's final year had consisted of vomiting profusely and taking her NEWTS from an infirmary bed in Madame Pomfrey's clinic because Rose sat on her sciatic nerve too much, Ron out enjoying the freedoms of being an Auror.

Some women had it all.

Some women were Astoria Greengrass.

Others were Hermione Granger.

"Well, I should be going." Hermione flashed a small smile and turned to the column. At first, she disregarded the small voice in her head that told her to stretch her legs. Then, when she realized her ankles would crack if she wore them in such a nervous state, she slipped her shoes off and into her hand, hearing the fake patent leather clank together. Moving her ankles in a circular motion to alleviate the tension, Hermione suddenly stiffened when she felt a hand on her back.

"The more you move like that, the more stressed you - and your muscles - become," Malfoy murmured, winking at his ex-wife, who was watching with a smile still on her face. Despite what many thought, the two were still great friends, and their friendship hadn't been muddled with the fact that they had never had to sleep together. Astoria was more than happy with her fashion photographer American boyfriend, and Draco thought they were the perfect match. She loved their son, too; and they had been honest with him from the moment he would speak in full sentences.

"I'll see you later," Astoria said and waited for Draco's head to nod, and then she disapparated away, leaving Hermione scowling at the place she had once been.

Malfoy's hand was still on her back.

"Just relax, Granger."

She glared at him, silent. Running through the column had never been a problem before. Then again, she never had to deal with a close Malfoy before.

"C'mon, Granger, I'm going to be late for my shift at the hospital if you keep wasting time oogling me like that."

"I'm not _oogling_ ," she hissed, eyes narrowing.

He chuckled. "Run with me."

She rolled her eyes. "My life is over."

And then they ran.

On the other side, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Lilly, and Hugo were standing around, frantically murmuring as to why Hermione hadn't come through the portal yet. Their murmurs and worries vanished when they saw the column cleave and two figures emerged.

 _Two_?

Harry smiled softly when he saw who was with her. "Malfoy."

"Potter." Draco nodded his head in greeting. "Mrs. Potter, Wease - Weasley." He glanced down at the two children, whose eyes were wide as they peered up at the ridiculously tall, pale man. "And you must be Lilly and Hugo." They nodded, still unsure how to take this man. "Sorry for the delay. I was just conversing with Granger about the marathon running she does."

"One of the many reasons we split," Ron muttered, glaring at Hermione. How could she run through the column with _Malfoy_ , of all people? It was blasphemy, that's what it was.

Hermione sighed. Arguing in the middle of King's Cross was not in her plans for the day, so she put on her infamously realistic fake smile and addressed everyone. "Well, _Ronald_ , it was amongst other things as well, but that's all trivial. Malfoy and I figured it would be easier to run through together since we both needed to go to the same place. His shift at the hospital starts soon, and I have to be to the office in an hour. I thought all of you would have left by the time we came through, actually."

"I wanted to say good-bye, Mum," Hugo whispered, glancing down at his feet awkwardly. Only his father truly understood how large Hugo's adoration was for his mother since he had felt the same way about her long ago, and he smiled at the memory.

Someday, it would be real life again.

"I'll see you in a week, honey," Hermione murmured, pulling her son in for a hug. "Besides, you have a match to get excited for. Go have fun with everyone today, okay?"

He smiled at his mom as they released each other.

After saying good-byes to everyone, Hugo turned towards his mother as he walked backwards. "I'll call you later, okay, Mum?"

"I only answer for you, honey," she called, giving him a small wave. His face lit up like Christmas as he turned again and jogged up to the rest of the small pack.

It was then Hermione realized Malfoy had gone, too.

Sighing, she made her way opposite of everyone else through the station.

 _Alone again_.

* * *

 **Okay, so it doesn't seem like much drama, but I promise you, there will be. Especially once I introduce a few more meddling characters and everything. And, I know the whole 'running' thing seems weird, but I can guarantee that it isn't supposed to seem normal-this isn't canon.**

 **Leave a review!**

 **~QueenRoyallt**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to _mama123_ and _Nuttycabbages_ for leaving a review! Glad at least two of you felt it was good enough to leave a review! Also, thanks to everyone who has favorited and followed this fic!**

 **And now, for the start of the rising action of our story!**

* * *

Some days, Draco lived for his job.

Other days, Draco's job murdered him.

Today was one of the latter days.

After dealing with gruesome lacerations, misplaced hexes, and, just overall poor life choices made by completely incompetent magical beings, he was ready for a long sleep.

Knowing he was going to a lonely but quiet house helped too.

Draco actually rather enjoyed being alone. It meant he could ponder life's questions without having to stop and make sure his son wasn't trying to torture the house elves, or his ex-wife-slash-confidant wasn't trying to devise a plan that involved him settling down with a nice witch who would make him laugh.

After witnessing his encounter with Hermione Weasl - _Granger_ \- over three weeks ago, Astoria was probably doing just that.

He hadn't even meant to say anything to her. In fact, he had wanted to avoid her. He was unaware of how she had been faring in the six years after her divorce, and he often thought of that moment during the final battle, where he'd been called out by the Dark Lo - _Voldemort_ \- when he'd so desperately wanted to stay put on his heightened perch of stony rubble. She had been standing with Ron, hand in his so tightly that Draco thought he was going to blanch at the sight of it.

Funny that he wouldn't blanch at watching her be tortured by his psychopathic mentally deranged aunt, but he felt an inward cringe at her open affection for the Weasel.

Maybe it was because of how he couldn't comprehend her insolence at being with the git.

Draco knew he wasn't perfect. He was actually worse than Ron when it came to a lot of things, and part of why he hated him so much probably stemmed from how childish they both were. Draco could never handle things on his own, always having to rely on his father's' influence to get what he wanted. Ron, on the other hand, had only to complain to his beloved friends, and justice would be made.

He had even gotten the girl.

Draco wasn't surprised to find out that Ron had foolishly left during the Horcrux hunt around twelve years ago. The trio had independently published their own wizarding autobiography a few years ago, amidst the controversial divorce between Ron and Hermione, called _The Golden Trio's Life from Under the Cloak_ , which paid total homage to one of Harry's Prized possessions: the invisibility cloak that Draco had left him under at the beginning of their sixth year. It had, of course, been a bestseller, and Draco had used his business connections to obtain an original manuscript, complete with editorial markings made by Hermione. Each person had their own section to tell, and part of what was included was a monologue from Ron about his thoughts and reasons for leaving, as well as what he did when he was gone.

Draco may have run away from the final battle with his parents, but he didn't run when he had witnessed Hermione Granger being tortured by his aunt.

And, yes, her traumatic experience at Malfoy Manor was included, too.

And, yes, he had hung onto every word she had written, feeling its iciness seep into his very soul.

But, at the very essence, he was completely unaware at how Hermione could be with someone - have a _child_ with someone - who treated her the way the Weasel did. Ron continuously claimed that he never knew what Hermione felt for him, but Draco knew it was a complete lie. Late one night, during the year almost all of the Second War veterans of Hogwarts that would've been in their seventh year returned, he had overheard Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan talking about how Ron was an idiot for leaving his wife all alone to experience her first pregnancy without him. Of course, even someone with rocks for brains could figure that out, but what surprised Draco even more had been the words that had come tumbling out of Seamus's mouth:

" _You would think, with how much he loved watching her fawn over him in her own little, Hermione-esque way, that he would want to be here, gloating about how she's carrying his kid._ "

The words had angered Draco. There he was, having to cater to one of his closest friends' every wish for chocolate covered strawberries and mint ice cream because she was carrying his child - albeit, it was only so that both of them could keep their titles and inheritances-, forced to endure a final year at school as a part of probation, and Ron Weasley was playing games with the brightest witch of their age.

It disgusted him.

Everyone thought he hated Weasley because he was the one that Potter had chosen to befriend instead of Malfoy, but really, it was because of how Ron treated people, especially Hermione. It was as though he felt they would bow down to him just because he was Harry Potter's best friend.

When he was younger, Draco felt his thoughts were justified.

At graduation, he knew he was just being hypocritical.

When he made that realization, sitting there at the ceremony, knowing he was all alone, listening to a new-mother-glowing Hermione give a speech, Draco knew he needed to do something to repent for his feelings. No, not his crime of being a young Death Eater, but his actual feelings. The things that had driven him to be what he was. Jealously. Anger. Hurt. Fear.

Hope.

It was with that one feeling, Hope, that Draco decided to become a Healer.

It was with Fear that he reluctantly agreed to be assigned to Ginny Potter's later pregnancies, making sure she was happy and her children healthy, without anyone in the public knowing, of course.

It was with Anger that he realized he had been an asshole for far too long.

It was with Jealousy that Draco ached for something like what the Potters had. Once again, he lost to Potter. It was a common occurrence. And he was becoming used to it.

As he hurriedly changed out of his Healer scrubs - because modern day wizarding Healers were actually becoming a lot more like Muggles in order to blend in well - and into his casual wear of the latest designer brands (courtesy of his dear ex-wife): fitted straight-leg jeans, a casual light blue button down, khaki jacket, and original style Sperrys (yes, Draco Malfoy wore Sperrys), he slammed his locker door shut and neatly placed his scrubs into his hospital-given duffle bag.

"I see you're ready to go for the day," his colleague and closest work friend, Ryan noted. Ryan was from a pureblood family in America - which basically meant he stuck out like a sore thumb on the streets of Muggle London since he was Native American, with his tan skin and thick jet black hair that was tied into a loose bun at the nape of his neck - and Draco hadn't even known until Ryan had walked into his graveyard shift with Draco one evening, holding the latest edition of the Daily Prophet and spouting off about how wizarding England was so far behind wizarding America in terms of rights of citizens. Of course, they had then transpired to handing off their cases to lowly interns and spent the rest of the day discussing the differences between their two homelands, and Ryan had informed Draco that part of the reason why Native Americans had been persecuted so much was because of their ability to manipulate the lands and conduct magic. Of course, they were unaware it was magic until the men and women of Salem were able to show them the truth, making future American witches and wizards more powerful than even the late Voldemort and Dumbledore themselves.

Draco had been fascinated, just as he was when Ryan had shown him all the different Potions that St. Mungo's would be adapting due to their lack of update in the past fifty years.

"Yeah. I figured I would stop at the bakery down the street on my way home so that I wouldn't need the elves to cook me dinner tonight." Draco swung his bag over his shoulder as Ryan leaned against the lockers, his v-neck scrub shirt in his hands.

"You know, you could always come over and visit with Loreana and the kids. It's game night."

"Nah. Being around families makes me miss Scor." It was true. Every week that he hung out with Ryan and his family, he missed his son a little more. Ever since the two men had become friends, they had been spending one night a week together, alternating homes, helping their children foster friendships.

"I know how you feel. It's just not the same without having Alyssa there. I'm glad she and Scorpius are together at school, though."

Draco snorted. "If my son is anything like I was in school, he'll probably have her running around terrorizing Hufflepuffs."

Ryan shook his head. "I still don't understand this whole 'house sorting thing.' Is it supposed to help them learn more about who they are going to grow up to become? Because from what Alyssa has said about Slytherin, it means she's going to become a real brat who lies every chance she gets." He paused and smirked at Draco's red, embarrassed facial expression. "Sorry, man. It's just how I feel from what she said."

"Well, there's a possibility for that. There's also a possibility she'll become a Hitler-wannabe and try to take over the world. We're pretty cunning, so you never know. She'll have you thinking one thing, but she'll really mean something else."

"Ah." Ryan nodded, slipping his feet into his flip flops. Ryan was one of those people who always wore open toed shoes, even if there was over a foot of snow on the ground. "We never had those in America."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Houses?" He held the door open for the both of them as Ryan slipped his aviator sunglasses into the opening of his loose t-shirt and glided past him.

Ryan nodded. "Actually, we didn't live at our wizarding schools. There was at least one per tri-city area - the President actually has a cabinet member who's a wizard and he picked the cities that would house the schools. We would go after attending our regular high school classes. Some went early in the mornings or only on weekends if they were involved in other groups after their high school day was over."

Draco arched his eyebrow again. "But you guys still took your required tests and stuff, right?"

Ryan shook his head. "That's only Europe, I'm pretty sure. Each school can pretty much decide what sort of tests they do in order to determine graduation participants. In New Mexico, all of the schools got together for a dueling tournament. It wasn't mandatory if you had a certain GPA already, or if you had already started college, especially out of state. A lot of what we learned came from our parents."

As they headed into the main floor lobby of the hospital, Draco smirked at him. "And where did you finish on the dueling ranks?"

Ryan chuckled. "Come over on Saturday and I'll show you." He paused. "But, I will tell you that Loreana beat me. It's how I fell in love with her."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure I care to hear that story. It's probably too fluffy to be interesting."

The two continued to walk through the main floor, when suddenly, the lobby was filled with wizarding London citizens, apparating in faster than one could blink. Almost all of the people that weren't on makeshift stretchers were soot-ridden and had tattered clothes, parts singed off. All around Ryan and Draco were victims with limbs detached from their bodies, gashes running raggedly across them, crying and screaming for dear life. Some were on transfigured stretchers, others were hanging onto each other. Some were merely passed out, others clearly dead.

It was then Draco spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt, left arm hanging limply as he was placed on the floor by one of his assistants.

He dropped his duffel and ran over to him while Ryan dropped his own and headed to other victims, barking orders like a mad dog.

"Minister!" Draco called, reaching the man after what felt like hours. When the man didn't open his eyes, Draco focused his attention on the woman standing beside him. There were tears in her eyes, and they shone with a haunting glimmer. "What happened? Tell me everything you know." He crouched down onto his knees, yelling at one of the running interns to bring him back pain potions of any and every kind. He continued to perform spells and attempt to clot bloody wounds with strips of torn cloth from the Minister's tattered robes as the woman spoke.

"It was the first Quidditch game of the season at Hogwarts, and Minister Shacklebolt wanted to see it. He, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, along with his son and Ms. Granger, were portkeyed to the stands exactly ten minutes before the game started. After the match began, I was assigned to stay with all of them at all times. I was unaware of any security precautions that were thought of as issues, but I guess I was wrong. I mean, how were we supposed to know one of the students would -" she paused, her lip quivering.

Draco smiled. "It's okay. I just need you to keep talking. Any information you can give me will help to take care of the Minister and all the other victims. Okay?"

She nodded and watched Draco as he continued to perform small stitching tasks on the Minister with his wand, taking a deep breath and continuing. "One of the students was upset that the opposing house was in the lead, and so she casted a charm on one of the player's broom to set it on fire. I don't think she realized that she'd casted a fiendfyre spell because the next thing we all knew, the entire Quidditch field was in flames."

As she continued to talk, explaining how the throngs of people and students were caught under falling burning pillars or trampled by the crowds of running survivors, Draco was instantly transported to the time when his entire school had been burning and filled with rubble. Images flashed through his mind, and only the sound of her voice heightening brought him back to reality.

It was over.

Voldemort was dead.

"None of us could've imagined the power of that girl. From the look on her face, she only appeared to be a first year. I hope she's okay. I remember back when I was a Ravenclaw and how invested I was in Quidditch matches. Especially the Slytherin versus Gryffindor ones, like today."

Draco froze over the Minister. Scorpius. The word rang through his mind as he quickly stood up and shouted orders to the closest intern to find a resident Healer to finish the job up.

He had to find his son.

Draco ran all through the lobby, trying to find his son's characteristic blonde hair, just like his own. Even with the mass amount of people, he should be able to find his son.

Except he wasn't there.

Frantically, he found a corner and slid down onto the floor, blinking rapidly in order to fight away tears. _Malfoys don't cry in public_ , his father's voice rang through his head. Except, the next voice in his head was Astoria's, wailing and screaming at him that he didn't protect their son.

Maybe he was lucky and Scorpius had been somewhere else in the castle, like the library, studying.

Oh, who was he kidding. Scorpius was a Malfoy.

And Malfoy's defied rules and played Quidditch during their first year.

He had to find his son.

With renewed strength, he pushed himself up from the floor, sliding along the wall until he was at his full height, scanning the crowd with a new, watchful eye. He was no longer frantic because he realized that he would never find Scorpius if he wasn't focused. When his eyes finally settled, they were resting on a face he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing in years.

Minerva McGonagall.

"Dr. Malfoy." Her tone was sharp but quiet. And, strangely, it was all Draco could hear over the loud buzzing of the crowded hospital lobby. "I have some information that I need to discuss with you involving your son. Follow me."

That was all he needed to hear.

* * *

 **Well, there it is, folks! Leave a review; you know you want to!**

 **Also, I leave for school next Saturday, so I'll try to post what I've gotten written (like, three more chapters) by then. I won't have access to my own computer until after my tuition refund check comes through in September and I can purchase one. Unfortunately, FanFiction doesn't have a way to post via mobile web (which sucks, quite frankly), but I can still write from Google docs! So far I'm up to 25 pages, and I can only go up from there!**

 **~QueenRoyallt**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you so much to _patty cake rocks, Flo, Nuttycabbages, mama123,_ and _Mischief_** **for your reviews! They mean a lot.**

 **I'm at school right now, and my refund check doesn't come in until after the start of September, so this might be the last you guys will get for a couple of weeks. If you would like a preview of the next chapter, send me a private message and I'll see if I can get it to you!**

* * *

" _Are you bloody serious Rose? What the hell is wrong with you?! How many people have you_ -" Hermione was cut off from her angry rant as the door opened and a throat cleared. She looked up from the chair her daughter was currently sitting in, face redder than her hair, to face a stern-looking Professor - no, _Headmistress_ \- McGonagall and a wide-eyed, confused Draco Malfoy.

"Dad!" The boy sitting in the opposite corner called, rushing out of one of the Headmistress's seats, almost trampling his father. It was obvious of their relation, Hermione noted, because of the light platnium color of their hair. Both were very lanky, and they had a posture that screamed _prestigious_. Hermione watched with a careful eye as Draco suddenly relaxed, winding his arms around his son, rubbing his back. Scorpius had buried his face into his father's abdomen, and his shoulders shook slightly, like he was crying.

"Crybaby," Rose hissed. It wouldn't have been heard if it wasn't dead silent in the Headmistress's office. Except it was.

And now Rose not only had her mother glaring at her but two very pissed off adults as well.

The only person who seemed slightly content in this situation was Ronald, who was standing off to the side of his daughter's chair, eyes shining lightly with glee despite the soot he was covered in.

In fact, the only person who was fully dressed and clean at this point was Malfoy.

" _What?_ " he hissed, eyes narrowing at Rose.

While for a brief moment Hermione felt defensive towards her daughter, Ron seemed to be magnified by that tenfold.

"Don't get all pissy with my daughter, _Malfoy_. It's not her fault your son was cheating. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" Ron's voice held a venom Hermione had never felt before, not even when a drunk Ministry employee had drunkenly decided to hit on Hermione at one of the Christmas parties.

He had actually laughed at the whole thing.

But now? Now, Ronald Weasley was the image of unreserved anger, and it was all directed at Draco Malfoy.

And neither Hermione or Headmistress McGonagall would accept it.

"I think everyone needs to have a seat." Hermione watched as McGonagall snapped her fingers and a few more chairs appeared, looking comfortable with thick cushions, which were a warm, rich red nestled in dark mahogany. Now that she thought about it, McGonagall's office was quite similar to the Gryffindor common room: warm and inviting with reds, golds, and dark browns. _You can take the woman out of Gryffindor, but you can't take the Gryffindor out of the woman_.

As the standing members reluctantly sat down - Hermione refusing to sit next to Ron and somehow sitting with Rose on her left and Draco on her right - McGonagall started speaking.

"I understand there has been a lot of animosity between these two children since the fall term started this year. Now, I am sure that you three are unaware of what exactly that animosity entails," she paused, shooting looks of contempt towards the three adults, "but it finally came to a head today. A nasty, deathly head. Rose, why don't you explain to me why you can't seem to be civil towards Scorpius?"

"Because he's a prat! A low-life, egomaniacal, pure-blooded _jackass_!"

"And you're an uptight, loud-mouthed, half-blooded _bitch_!"

They both finished at the same time, jumping up and aiming their wands at each other, despite being separated by two adult bodies.

"Rose!" Hermione gasped, jumping up and snatching her wand from her daughter.

" _Scorpius Malfoy! How dare you be so rude_!" Draco hissed, snatching his son's wand as well.

"Oh, please, Dad, she's only been calling me Death Eater scum since we boarded the train!" Scorpius whined, lunging towards Rose, who was suddenly pulled backwards by her father.

"Well, that's because you are! My fa -"

" _Rose Elizabeth Weasley_! You can't just _say_ things like that! It's completely degrading and insulting to do so! Who on earth told you such things, and why did you listen? Have you not heard anything I've tried to teach you?" Hermione interrupted, tossing Rose's wand across the room, hands flying to her daughter's shoulders and shaking them.

Rose narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Dad did. And you've always told me to listen to my father."

"Really, Weasley? So, you go around talking shit about me to your kids, too?" Now Malfoy had become really angry, Hermione noticed. He was standing straighter, at his full height, and he loomed over all of them like a statue -

Absolutely perfect.

Hermione grimaced. Now was _not_ the time to start having thoughts like those.

Her daughter - _her daughter_ \- had just destroyed an entire Quidditch field and had probably given the Minister of Magic a multitude of excessive injuries.

And she was livid.

" _Silencio_!" McGonagall yelled, and suddenly, everything was quiet as it had been moments before. "Sit. Down. Now." She glared at all of them as they followed her instructions. "Now that we've seen where the origination of the animosity comes from, it's time we fix it. Obviously, Ms. Weasley has intentionally destroyed property and has harmed others, and, while her intent may not have been to harm as many as she did, it is still grounds for expulsion from Hogwarts." All seven people present heard Hermione's choked gasp as her hand raced to her mouth. Her daughter. _Expelled_ from Hogwarts. Her daughter.

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Also, the Ministry will probably not take too kindly that the Minister himself had to be stitched up by Dr. Malfoy here, as well, but I think I can convince Minister Shacklebolt that criminal charges and an Azkaban sentence is unnecessary. However, that is only if I can find enough punishment from vandalization. Tell me, Ms. Weasley, who taught you the fiendfyre curse?"

Rose's voice was soft as she squeaked, "My father."

Hermione gasped again, and this time, she didn't even realize she was up and out of her chair until something - _someone_ \- had pushed her back down into it. Glancing to her right, she saw Draco stare at her carefully, an apologetic look in his eyes. His face was still set evenly, and, in fact, his own jaw was tense, one of the muscles twitching softly.

He was pissed.

"Well, thankfully, neither you or Mr. Malfoy here were seriously harmed, but what I don't understand is why you would attempt something you'd never done before." With a wave of her hand, the silencing charm was lifted. "I trust that we can continue this conversation without needing complete quiet again, yes?" After waiting for the reluctant nod from Ron, she continued. "Unfortunately, I will not allow you to just blame this on your father or the presumption that the Slytherin team was cheating - which they weren't, my dear. Many people don't know this, but since the rebuilding, I had anti-cheating charms placed on the field. And, yes, they exist, Mr. Weasley." _Glare_. "So, I can assure you, your charm was completely unnecessary. It seems as though you have acted with malice -"

"He called my mum a _mudblood_! To my face! Right before the match! What was I supposed to do, just let him say it and get away with it?" Rose screeched suddenly, tears welling in her eyes.

"Your son called my wife a _what_?" Ron bellowed.

"Ex-wife, Ronald," Hermione corrected lightly, cutting him off before he could let out a string of curses towards Malfoy. "And I'm sure that Dr. Malfoy's son learned the term from someone other than his father, especially since he knows that the usage of such terms in his home would violate the clause in his probationary agreement that if he ever did use them he would be sent to Azkaban." She gave a pointed look to Scorpius that told him that, even if his father hadn't truthfully used the term, he was to say he didn't.

At this point, she was more furious with Ron than anything.

Scorpius was just a child. And calling someone something derogatory was one thing, but casting a fiendfyre curse? That was something else, and Hermione wasn't going to allow Rose to get away with it. She actually had half a mind to request McGonagall go ahead with letting the Ministry press charges against her daughter just to show that she wouldn't be allowed to get away with something so drastic.

But, Hermione knew that there were other ways to make her daughter see the wrongs in her actions, and forcing her to a Wizengamot trial was not one of them.

She watched as Scorpius looked at McGonagall and said, "It was Chase Nott who told me about it. He had called Rose's mum that word early this morning at breakfast, and when she and James came to taunt us and say that we'd lose the game today, it slipped out." He turned to Hermione. "I'm sorry for saying something so vulgar about you, Mrs. Wea - Ms. Granger. It was very rude and impulsive of me." He paused as if contemplating on whether or not Rose deserved his words. Quite frankly, Hermione didn't think she did. But, just to prove how mature he was, Scorpius did just that. "I also shouldn't have said that to you, Rose. You upset me, and so I childishly went to upset you, and I didn't think the repercussions of doing so would involve me losing my broom the way I did." He paused again and started to laugh. "Seriously, though. That was pretty wicked."

Rose was suddenly smiling too, and she chanced a glance at her mother, who was scowling down at her. "I didn't mean for it to get out of hand like that. I honestly thought you all were cheating."

Hermione sighed. "Thank you, Headmistress, for calling us in here for this chat. I'll make sure that Rose has her things packed and ready to go within the hour." She nodded at her daughter and started to stand.

"Might I make a suggestion?" Draco's voice was quiet, almost as though he really was afraid to speak.

"No," Ron muttered under his breath, making to stand as well. Both Hermione and McGonagall threw daggers with their eyes at him.

"Please do, Dr. Malfoy," McGonagall murmured, gesturing with his hand to continue speaking.

"Well," he started, looking over at his son and then to Rose, "it seems as though Ms. Weasley - and this is, by no means, an insult to her ... _lineage_ \- was unable to master the control needed to cast the fiendfyre. The three of us are quite familiar as to what happens when it's casted uncontrollably." The three adults shuddered as they remembered their time in the Room of Requirement the year of the war. "And, if she is to be expelled from Hogwarts, she won't ever learn how to fully control that magic." He paused again, looking up at Hermione, who was staring down at him with her brows crinkled together in thought. "Neither Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger can teach her privately since she is underage and the Ministry doesn't allow private magical tutors. It is my thought that perhaps," Hermione watched him take a quick breath and sit up straighter, "that she stay here and rebuild the Quidditch field. With my son. _Together_ ," he murmured, so quietly that Hermione wasn't sure she had even really heard it.

She stared at him in awe, her mouth slightly hanging open.

Ron snorted, breaking the moment. "As if I'd let my daughter near your son after saying what he has to her. If I'm not mistaken, he deserves some punishment here, too."

"That's the point, _Ronald_ ," Hermione hissed, squeezing her fists again, glaring at him. "He is being punished. Not only does he have to help rebuild the Quidditch stadium, he has to spend time with Rose rather than just saying sorry and going back to taunting her. It's ... Well, it's brilliant, actually." She beamed slightly down at Malfoy, who had a light - was that a _blush_? - color on his face.

McGonagall smirked. "And, while, yes, it's brilliant, Dr. Malfoy, I see one small problem. Who will supervise the youngsters while they're rebuilding? All of the teachers have courses to teach, and I don't want them out after hours. Their studies are of the first priority."

Before Draco could open his mouth, Hermione found hers blurting, "We will." At the looks of incredulity she was given by both men and children and the smile from McGonagall, she stood a little straighter. "Dr. Malfoy and I will, actually. Ronald's inability to parent his daughter by informing her of a charm but not teaching her how to control it will be punished by him not being able to see her over any school breaks, which will be when we build the stadium and field. That way, no studies are interrupted, and Dr. Malfoy and I are able to find ample coverage for our shifts at our occupations, as well as procure permission from our respective bosses." She turned to Draco, a half smile playing on her lips. "Does that seem fair to you, Doctor?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he murmured, grey eyes drilling into hers. Images of her walking with Ron and Harry during their sixth year, so happy and contented, down the snow covered Hogsmeade streets behind Katie Bell before she touched the cursed necklace he gave her ran through his mind. He had repressed most of those memories, but being near her brought them all back. "The fall break is coming up in about two weeks, no? Even if it's just the weekend, it will give us the opportunity to strategize." He turned in his seat to face McGonagall. "If it's alright with you, Headmistress."

She nodded, eyes bright. "Of course, Dr. Malfoy. You all are dismissed. And yes, I have to take points away, children. Three hundred from you, Mr. Malfoy, for using such inappropriate language. And one thousand from you, Ms. Weasley, for using a spell without knowing the consequences and for causing such a ruckus." As the children and their parents made to leave she called back out to them. "Oh, and Ms. Granger and Dr. Malfoy?" They turned around. "I am going to suggest to the Minister that the two of you hold a press conference to inform everyone of what will be transpiring. It might take away some of the negativity of this situation. Agreed?"

As they nodded and walked away, Minerva couldn't help but smile as she was transported back to when they were young themselves, having a small, warm feeling in her chest resembling nostalgia.

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 **Well, that's it for now! Please leave a review if you enjoyed it! Hope everyone's enjoying the last bit of summer!**

 **~QueenRoyallt**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, guys, so my mom had to bring me the family laptop at school because the program I needed for Philosophy wouldn't download to my flashdrive without an administrative password... which I don't have. Sooooooo now, I can post chapters! Yay!**

 **A big thank you to _Chester 99_ and _mama123_ for their reviews! You guys rock!**

 **And now, we introduce a pivotal character in this story. You might be surprised by her actions and thoughts.**

* * *

Astoria Greengrass loved her afternoon tea. Especially when it was with a fellow woman of class.

Except today, she was dining with Hermione Granger.

Astoria had nothing against the tiny but powerful woman. Sure, she was a war heroine, but she honestly didn't hold nearly enough power as the fashion journalist did. Astoria had multiple wizards, witches, bankers, politicians, and many other wealthy muggles all under her thumb. When you controlled what people wore, you controlled their entire lives.

However, this woman seemed to not follow Astoria's lead.

It had been her own idea to meet the woman who would be training her son - and whose daughter destroyed the brand new Nimbus edition broom she had bought him before the school year had started - over all holiday breaks. Oddly enough, Astoria had taken kindly to using phones and other electronic devices Muggles had invented, and they were a lot less messy than owls. She loved her office phone; it was a newer design of the normal Cisco desk phone, and it matched the posh theme of her office. But her favorite piece of Muggle technology had to be her iPhone, which had come out three years prior to when Draco convinced her to buy one as well. Well, his American friend Ryan had convinced him, and he'd convinced her, and her boyfriend Todd also had one, so that had sealed the deal.

Astoria Greengrass used a Muggle mobile phone.

She was not very surprised to find that Hermione Granger used one as well; when one of the interns had found her direct number in the phone book, Astoria's own eyes had widened when the numbers flashed blue, indicating that the messages shared would not be of the cellular nature (or so she had been told). After a quick deliberation, she decided on a detached approach to the situation, and sent a hasty text to the elder woman, inviting her for tea at her office within the next few days.

Much to her surprise, Hermione had agreed for a short get together that very afternoon.

And that was how Astoria found herself sitting opposite Hermione Granger, sipping delicately on Earl Grey, eyeing her lack of professionalism in dress for the day. Astoria herself was dressed in a sharp navy blue pant suit, the wide legged pants somehow still conforming to her, giving her normally non-existent backside a shape. Her coral deep v-neck t-shirt was a dressy silky material, looking both comfortable and professional at the same time. She had hung her neatly pressed suit jacket on the back of her chair, and she was seated with her left side near the ceiling-to-floor window wall, where out of the corner of her eye she could see right through the heart of London.

Across from her, Hermione Granger sat as well, half of her face illuminated by the very rare England sunshine, highlighting her very light dusting of natural makeup. Astoria had visibly blanched when she had watched Hermione walk - timidly, mind you - into her office, dressed in nothing other than a pair of slim cut jeans, an oversized cream colored cashmere sweater, a bright red thick knitted scarf, and nude colored ballet flats. Sure, it was a nice get-up, but not something you wore for tea with one of the most powerful witches in England.

Even that wretched stiff dress suit she had worn over a month ago would have been better than that casual wear.

However, when Hermione had turned to see Astoria and her hesitancy was noted, Astoria felt a quick pang of guilt, and it was enough to wipe the scowl off her face and cause a glittering smile to replace it.

And that was how the two women had ended up enjoying cups of everlasting tea, conversing about their Hogwarts year and their most recent lives.

As the conversation lulled, Hermione took another sip of her tea and started to refill her cup. "Now, Astoria, I know this isn't just a social call. Obviously, you don't want to interview me for an article in your magazine in which no one knows I exist, and we have never exactly been chummy."

Astoria dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a thick napkin and placed it back on her table, donning a smirk that all Slytherins were famous for. "Are you sure about that? Stranger things have happened, my dear."

Now it was Hermione's turn to smirk. Albeit, it wasn't the best - they would have to work on that overtime - but Astoria had to admit, it wasn't a bad attempt. It was common knowledge that Hermione was intelligent, but she had a problem keeping her intelligence to herself.

"Why weren't you at the meeting last week?" Hermione's gaze suddenly turned inquisitive, and her eyebrows furrowed together quizzically. Her whiskey brown eyes bore into Astoria's emerald ones, searching for an answer.

"I had business to attend to in Germany. Headmistress McGonagall owled me about it, but there was no way I could just apparate away from a Muggle fashion shoot. I informed her that Draco's presence would be enough." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I am aware of the fact that there are ... lingering issues between my ex-husband, yourself, and your own ex, and I was also weary to be put in the middle and witness the explosive turn out of that situation. Honestly, I was afraid for my son's well-being, but I knew his father could handle it. Draco may be a snake, but, like most snakes, he cares for his own."

Hermione nodded. "He seems to be different from when we were in school."

She smiled softly. "Well, realizing that he didn't want to turn into his father helped to wisen him up some." Astoria placed her hands onto the sides of her chair with a soft smack, keeping her smile on her face. "Now, as to the real reason I invited you here. I am under the impression that you are part of the reason I will not be seeing my son next week? Or for Thanksgiving? Or Christmas?"

Hermione chuckled sheepishly under Astoria's gaze. "Well, that was actually your ex-husband's doing. He suggested the entire thing, I just filled in the gaps Minerva found with some slight bullshit." Astoria flinched as the crude words spoken publicly. _Gryffindors never really had much of a tact for public speaking_. "I never thought she would go for it, but she did. I was actually in the middle of procuring some advanced spell books from Flourish and Blotts today when I received your text."

Astoria raised a perfectly waxed eyebrow. " _Advanced spell books_? My dear, I know you're considered the 'most brilliant witch of our age' and all, but I must admit that advanced spells are most likely not needed to rebuild a Quidditch stadium. A simple _wingardium_ should do the trick." She paused then, realization dawning on her features as she raised her teacup to her bright red lips. "Or, is there a deeper meaning to this punishment solution than just what you've let on?"

"Actually," Hermione sighed, lifting a hand to rub two fingers on her left temple, "I know that my daughter has the ability to conjure an uncontrollable fiendfyre. And, as proud of her as I am, I do not condone her reasoning. I feel that she will be able to do advanced spells very young, much like I did, and I believe your son can, too. He seems to be an intelligent child, and I was hoping they would want to learn more ... _intricate_ spells while we rebuild. I know it's not something unfortunate they would have to endure, but Rose has always resembled Ron in that she won't follow through unless given incentive."

"Of course. Scorpius is very much like his father; a quiet intelligent. I'm sure he would enjoy that." She smirked, hoping her next comment wouldn't seem too brash to the woman who had uttered profanity just moments ago. "Besides, he should be smart, being conceived in an incubator and all."

Hermione almost spit out her tea at Astoria's comment, and not because of the content.

It was just too damn funny.

"Oh my goodness," she sputtered, wiping the prickling tears out of her eyes. "I am so sorry."

"Too informative, I presume?" Astoria inquired, biting her lip.

Hermione laughed, shaking her head and her hand at the woman. "Oh no. Quite the opposite, actually. Hilarious. I had actually been thinking the same thing myself, but I didn't want to insult you."

"Oh, no! You should hear Draco and myself whenever we get together at the Manor. It pisses Lucius off entirely when we speak about it."

Hermione nodded. Lucius Malfoy had been released from his twenty-five year long sentence from Azkaban four years after being found guilty of war crimes, treason, harboring a fugitive, and many others. Hermione had actually been a witness against him at his trial considering her ordeal at Malfoy Manor. Astoria must have noticed Hermione's sudden change in demeanor because she quickly changed the subject.

"Anyways, I think it's a splendid idea to force my son to understand just how much damage his taunts can create. Rebuilding this stadium will help him understand that. But, can I make a simple request?"

"Of course, Astoria."

"Make him do some things the Muggle way."

"I'm sorry?"

Astoria sighed slightly. Surely, Hermione wasn't completely daft. "My boyfriend is a Muggle. And, while I had to use all of my contacts in order to allow him in on the whole 'secrecy' portion of our lives, because of the distance I live from my son, Todd has never been able to teach Scorpius how to work with his hands."

"And your ex-husband?"

"Draco knows how to do it all. But he doesn't think it's his place. Something or another about how it's not his mastery, so it's not worth his time." She waved a hand dismissively. "I am well aware of my ex-husband's faults. They certainly don't include creating false prejudices in our child's head though."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "I never understood how Rose would listen to Ron like that. After all I had been instilling into her that we shouldn't be prejudicing against others at all."

"It probably happened during the midst of your divorce. You initiated it, if I remember correctly?"

Hermione nodded. "Rose has always resented me for that. Hugo, on the other hand, well, he's been a little more accepting. I think it's because of how little he is."

"Ah. Yes. Of course, I really cannot console you on this matter entirely. Scorpius was raised in a divided household; Draco and I have always told him the truth about how and why his life came to be."

Hermione nodded again and glanced at her watch. "Well, I should be going. I need to hurry to Flourish if I want those books I mentioned earlier."

"By all means, yes. I'm excited to see what type of man you help mould my son into." Astoria rose, shaking Hermione's hand daintily. "We will have to meet again sometime."

"Of course." Hermione smiled and started to walk towards the office doors.

"Oh, and Hermione?" Astoria called.

"Yes?" Hermione turned back towards her lunch date.

"Thank you."

* * *

 **Alright, so it's a little shorter than usual. But, trust me, she'll be more involved eventually. I'm choosing to make Astoria more like many people would assume Narcissa would act; which is why she and Draco get along just fine. She would be an incredible mother to Scorpius, and would also possess wisdom that others might not due to her career in working with both Muggles and Wizards. Most would think Hermione would be better suited to express those ideals, but she also had chosen to keep most of her life in the Wizarding World, showcasing that she wasn't as in tune with her Muggle heritage. Astoria, on the other hand, can understand both sides of the coin and connect easier.**

 **Until next time!**

 **~Queen Royallt**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while, I've been busy with stuff at school; first ever semester of college: not fun. Sooooo in honor of me having an article posted on my school's HerCampus page, I'm posting this chapter on here! Hope you guys enjoy; I've added some foreshadowing, so hopefully you'll catch it!**

* * *

When the train arrived and deposited the students back at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, only two students were missing. Of course, Harry and Ginny were well aware of the reasons the Malfoy/Greengrass pair and the ex-Weasley's were not present, but they, along with everyone else, decided to ignore the issue.

Which, actually, was exactly what had happened after the now-unmentionable incident at Hogwarts. Both Draco and Hermione had given a press conference with Kingsley explaining the detrimental accident that had occurred, and ample punishment was being given. Kingsley, who was sporting a new head wrap of white gauze bandages, made it a point to the public that a young child should not necessarily be penalized on a much larger governmental scale for her naivety. Of course, the beloved Rita Skeeter and a few other reporters had a few unkind words towards the Minister for his beliefs, calling for justice towards the Golden Trio's ex-power couple's daughter, but the Minister had held firm.

When Rita had blatantly asked Draco how he felt about knowing that his son was almost killed by Hermione Granger's daughter, he replied: "But he wasn't. So your question's invalid at this moment, Ms. Skeeter."

When she had aimed a nasty question towards Hermione about her parenting, Draco had stepped in without giving Hermione a chance to speak. "Ms. Granger's parenting ability had nothing to do with her daughter's decisions. It's unfair to assume that she had contact with Rose and approved such an idea. Are you going to tell me you told your parents everything you did - or planned to do - while you were away at school? Because I certainly didn't."

When Rita had asked Astoria for a quote on the situation, she had said, "Ms. Granger is a lovely, bright young woman - much like myself. I am glad that she and my ex-husband, along with the Minister and Headmistress, were able to find a punishment for both her daughter and my son that will force them to cooperate with each other while simultaneously enriching their magic in a way that I feel no one else could teach them."

When Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was asked about his opinion of Draco's apparent hot-headed son, he had concurred: "Of course Scorpius is hot-headed. He lives with Draco Malfoy. But, I can assure you that Dr. Malfoy has raised him to have the upmost respect for others, and every time I have been in his presence, he, and his father, have always treated me cordially and pleasantly. Now, if you could please step aside, I have a junior Quidditch league to meet my beloved wife at. Thank you."

The only person who had had anything particularly unpleasant to say about the situation was Ron. "My daughter was defending what she thought was right. Slytherins are overly cunning, and I wouldn't be surprised if everything that comes out of _Doctor Malfoy's_ mouth was utter shite. I am completely appalled that I am not able to see my daughter for weeks at a time all because she was acting like the child she is and made a mistake."

Of course, the papers ran his quote instead of the others. Money isn't made by spreading good words. Drama makes the magical world turn, and, needless to say, the _Daily Prophet_ 's sales skyrocketed after running such a story.

But, suddenly, the hype had dissipated. The _Prophet_ was no longer running page-long spreads of one-on-one interviews with witnesses and victims of the situation. No one spoke in hushed tones whenever Draco or Hermione walked along the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley. It was as if nothing has ever happened, and no one knew who had stopped it.

There was speculation, of course. Most people assumed Draco had bought off the editor of the _Prophet_ , while others thought Harry had used his influence to get them to stop reporting things.

Draco had laughed when he found out it had been Astoria and Hermione who had, together, threatened to leave Rita Skeeter transfigured into an odd looking platypus at the _Prophet_ 's headquarters if she didn't stop procuring stories about their families.

He had laughed even more when he saw Hermione two days later at Hogwarts, and she had feigned innocence when he made a comment about it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Her voice echoed throughout the quiet halls of the castle as they made their way to the Headmistress's office. Their children were waiting for them inside, seated civilly across from the Headmistress's desk while she brewed a fresh pot of tea.

"Ah, good morning, Ms. Granger and Dr. Malfoy," McGonagall greeted, taking the fresh pot off the burner and bringing it over to her desk. "Your children have been waiting anxiously to see you."

"Dad!" Scorpius called, bouncing out of his chair and over to his father.

"Hello, Scorpius. Have you been waiting long?" Draco asked after hugging his son.

Scorpius shook his head and went back to his seat, a soft smile on his face.

Draco watched as Hermione gave Rose a curt nod and placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, squeezing it lightly in greeting. There was something off about her today, he noticed, as she was dressed in light denim jeans and a navy hooded jumper without a zipper, the words _Oxford University_ across the front. She sported the same classic Sperry's he did, but her laces were tied rather than tucked in. Her hair - while normally down in all it's spiral chestnut glory - was pulled up into a high messy bun, tendrils falling out of the back. He noticed she looked a little wearier than the last time he had seen her, which had been at the press conference. She had been almost regal then, standing tall in her jet black pant suit and crisp red button down. Hermione had commanded that conference even more than he had expected, and he had almost been proud watching her handle the questions thrown at her.

He felt a small jolt in his stomach as he peered at her, causing him to grip the back of the chair Scorpius was sitting in a little tighter than he had been before.

"See something you like Malfoy?" Hermione blurted, forgetting whose presence they were in. Instantly, her hand came to her mouth, her eyes widening.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow, flipping on his trademark smirk. "No, just wondering how many empty bottles of Firewhiskey you have lying around since you'd have the decency to show up here looking like that." He himself was dressed casually, in dark blue jeans and a black v-neck shirt.

McGonagall sighed louder than necessary, glaring at the two adults. "Now, I trust the two of you will keep the bantering to a light hearted minimum throughout the course of this event." With a wave of her wand, a large amount of parchments and scrolls appeared. "Here are the building plans for the stadium. I'm hoping we could add some new items in order to make our stadium more professional. I have also added a list of businesses that have always provided us with charmed tapestries and sound equipment. I'm trusting that the two of you will be able to handle the negotiations of prices and payment. Once you two have come to a conclusion, bring the figures to me and I'll work it out in the budget."

"That won't be necessary, Headmistress," Draco murmured, waving his own hand. Almost all of the papers vanished, except for the architectural blueprint and sketch of the stadium. "It is the Malfoy family's honor to make a well deserved donation to Hogwarts, considering it's been the family's alma mater for generations."

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly, glad that no one was paying attention to her. Of _course_ the high-ranking, well-esteemed Dr. Draco Malfoy would be able to handle providing the monetary funds for a project this big. For a brief moment, Hermione thought about offering to split the costs, considering she had way more than enough to do so, but she didn't want this to be a wand-measuring match. Merlin knew she could be childish; however, this entire thing was supposed to be about teaching her daughter _not_ to be childish.

"Well, thank you very much, Dr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, inclining her head towards him. "I'm sure you and Ms. Granger remember the way to the Quidditch field. If you both are a little unsure, your children do." She stood, moving towards the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must head to Gringotts to inform them of the sudden financial change in the Hogwarts account."

The four people left McGonagall's office quickly, knowing that she wanted them out of her office. As they walked down the hall, Draco and Scorpius walking a little ahead of the two females, Hermione turned towards her daughter.

"How have things been since the last time I saw you?"

Rose shrugged.

"Have you been enjoying your classes?"

Shrug.

"Do you have a favorite?"

Another shrug.

"I never had a favorite."

Shrug.

The one sided conversation continued until they reached the Quidditch field. The grass was no longer charred, but instead, it was yellow. Dry, brittle, yellow leaves of grass littered all over the ground. Small patches of green were dismissible, and the remnants of tall wooden bleachers were a vast array of dark, brooding colors: black, brown, and grey, signaling their defiance in being lost. The metal rings stood high up in the air, the two smaller ones filled with visible dents where the material had slightly melted.

Hermione closed her eyes, remembering just two weeks ago when the screams of burn victims reminded her of when the original stadium had burned eleven years prior in the war. The entire scent of burning wood and smoke had filled her nostrils as she had clambered around, not only trying to get out but save as many as she could. Bubble charms were practically useless since they had to be casted _before_ someone went into an area where oxygen would be limited. In fact, the Quidditch fire had reminded her of the Room of Requirement fire eleven years ago, too, where she had barely escaped with her life, thankful that her fear of flying had been overrun by her fear of dying.

Draco seemed to be having a similar reaction as his eyes swept over the remains of the field. Memories of sweat-creating Quidditch practices and matches flowed through his mind; his first kiss had been with Pansy underneath the Slytherin bleachers during his second year. Thinking back on how little he had known about the real world back then made him smile. Though it wasn't an innocent childhood he'd had, it had been better than some of the other kids he'd known.

He looked down at his son, who was presently kicking around some small hills of dead grass.

"The Muggles call this hay, right?" his son asked, looking up at him with quizzical eyes.

"I'm pretty sure, yeah. Ms. Granger's better to ask that to, though."

Scorpius nodded, looking down at the ground again. There hadn't been another Quidditch match since the fire; in fact, the entire season was cancelled because, even though there were plenty of places to practice, there weren't any bonafide Quidditch fields to play legitimate games at. McGonagall had thrown out the idea of possibly asking to use the national league's field, but the school account could barely handle building the new one, let alone use a professional Quidditch stadium.

"Well, what's the plan, Malfoy?" Granger's voice brought Draco out of his funk, and he quickly shook his head and fumbled for the parchment he had taken from McGonagall. She itched at the urge to make a comment about his lack of focus, but then thought better of it.

"Looks like they want to add enough upgrades to make this thing almost professional grade." He winced. This was going to make a serious dent in the Malfoy fortunes. His father was going to be livid. "Here, have a look." He handed the parchment over to her, and Hermione accepted it reluctantly.

As she looked over the plans, she noticed how much she really didn't know about building. She'd have to ask McGonagall if she could have access to the library in order to research architecture. Or, she'd just go to the local public library. Hermione really didn't know much about Quidditch, either; every time Ron would drag her to a match for "date night", she'd be lost. Only Viktor had been able to explain any resemblance to competence to her on the subject, and that was only when she was drunk.

Ah, yes. Viktor. He was perfectly knowledgeable on the subject, and he could help her. There was no need to consult the library. Hermione smiled to herself as she handed the plans back to Draco, not faltering her when he arched an eyebrow.

"Do they seem feasible with some simple spells?" he asked, glancing around and trying to find an object to conjure into a table.

Hermione let out a small chuckle. "Most of the ground work can be done the old-fashioned way. I'm sure I can pick up some more tools from the store by my flat on my way home."

"The _old-fashioned_ way?" Rose, suddenly finding her voice, asked. Hermione's face turned frustrated at her daughter's words. She sounded like a whining brat, much like Ron used to whenever she wanted to stay in for the evening instead of going out to a restaurant to flaunt their fame and fortune.

She sounded like Malfoy used to.

Draco recognized this, and his trademark smirk donned his face.

Hermione Granger had a snivelling brat on her hands.

"Yes, Granger, please explain this seemingly-idiotic way to all of us imbeciles," he added, finding a small satisfaction at her clenched fists.

"We build it. With _Muggle_ tools," she hissed, waiting for him to say something against her. Instead, his eyes widened, mouth dropping slightly. "Careful, Malfoy, You'll catch lacewings."

Draco set his jaw tightly, whirling around away from her. The look Scorpius gave him didn't go unnoticed by himself or Hermione, either. It was … condescending and almost disgusted. "I'm afraid there are spells for that, Granger. We'll need to get this done soon if we want to have this field done by May."

Hermione sighed. _Astoria's not going to be very happy when she hears about this._ "Unfortunately, I'm under strict orders that the foundation be done by hand. Besides, as long as we plan it out right, we should be fine. You took Advanced Arithmancy, right? You can start by taking the measurements of the field."

He held back another smirk. Now things were really getting to normal. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor House's Princess of Bossiness. "Does that have to be done the _Muggle way_ , too, Your Royal Highness?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she started to move to one end of the field. "No. You know the spell. Take Scorpius with you and teach him how to take measurements."

"Granger, he hasn't even had a full year of Arithmancy yet."

Hermione turned to Scorpius, staring at his grey eyes that were identical to his father's. "Scorpius, what's two-plus-two?"

He smirked, trying to imitate his father. "Fish."

"Good job." Hermione smiled widely. "Go on the other end of the field and help your father. Rose, come with me."

Draco grabbed onto her upper arm before she got too far away from him. "Two-plus-two is not _fish_ , Granger. It's four."

"I know."

"You know that. I know that. But Scorpius doesn't seem to."

"You do realize that Scorpius is your son, right? And that his own heart is sarcastic? I'm sure that when he dies, his portrait will spew comments of disdain and sarcastic wit to all that pass by." He let go of her arm as she pulled away. She stopped walking and looked back at him. "Really, though, Malfoy. You don't think your son knows how to add? What have you been doing with him? Forcing him to be a hermit?"

"Of course not, Granger. I just know the professors at Hogwarts can teach him some things better than I can." He narrowed his eyes at her. He was Draco Malfoy. _Of course_ his son knew how to add simple numbers. Scorpius could subtract, multiply, and divide, too.

He would accept nothing less than perfection from his son. It was one of the only things his father had gotten right in his parenting skills.

Hermione rolled her eyes, digging into her pockets and pulling out very small objects. With a snap of her fingers, the objects became life sized, and Draco stared at them with an arched eyebrow. Rolling her eyes again, she pointed at each item and named it. "Hammer. Measuring tape. Hand-saw. Nail-gun. Screwdriver."

"What in Merlin's name am I supposed to do with those? We don't even have wood - or metal, like the plans call for. God, Granger, are you that daft?"

She rolled her eyes again, walking over to where Malfoy was standing and handed him the tools. She leaned in just enough that her voice wouldn't carry through the air. "I _know_ you can build things with your hands, Malfoy. Astoria told me so. I am also aware that you built Scorpius's crib without magic during our eighth year because she asked you to. So, you're gonna build the damn field." After seeing the shocked expression on his face, she turned around and walked over to where her daughter was waiting, looking out at the Black Lake with a distant expression on her face.

She had another problem to deal with, and its name was Rose Weasley.

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 **Welp, there ya have it! Leave a review if you wanna! Until next time!**

 **~QueenRoyallt**


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. School, life, everything. I'm sure you guys understand.

Now to answer your reviews!

 _patty cake rocks_ : thanks! I enjoyed writing it!

 _MissesE_ : I always thought Rose would lean more towards her father considering most girl's tend to follow the "Daddy's Little Girl" stigma, and I love writing bitchy characters.

 _Chester99_ : I sometimes think Hermione tries too hard, but it's only because she wants people to accept her. She'll find out soon enough.

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Scorpius loved his father. He really did. His father was the symbol of perseverance and life; he had just barely escaped from the brink of death.

However, his father really knew nothing about him.

Scorpius watched as his father started using the Muggle tools Ms. Hermione had given him, realizing that he and his father were two completely different people. His father could do these things and he couldn't. His father could save someone's life and he couldn't.

His father could probably stop a fiendfyre and Scorpius couldn't.

He knew, that once he and his father were alone for a few moments, all he would hear was how much of a disappointment he was. Scorpius could never do anything right in his father's eyes, and it destroyed him.

He had lied when Headmistress McGonagall has asked him who had told him of the word _mudblood_. He had broken into the infamous Restricted Section by sweet-talking Professor Hagrid into giving him a pass and had found some of the most interesting books he had ever seen.

Scorpius's father would never let him go into his grandfather's study and read the books there. He constantly said that it reminded him of a time he wished to forget, back when he was young.

But, Scorpius needn't worry.

The Restricted Section had it all. Especially books on Lord Voldemort.

Scorpius, whose father and grandparents refused to speak about either Wizarding Wars to him (even in private), learned all about this man, this _half-blood_ who felt he was superior just because he was related to one of the founders of Hogwarts. It was hypocritical, actually, and Scorpius found his stomach churning in disgust at how Tom Riddle thought he should be supreme ruler of all.

Didn't he know it was easier to be the one churning the gears rather than the face of the campaign?

 _No wonder he lost his wars_.

But, Scorpius knew better than to have such thoughts. He didn't believe in blood purity; it was garbage. He had once witnessed Evelyn Moors - a first year like himself who was in Hufflepuff and also a Muggle-born - cut her head open when Chase Nott and his goonies tripped her in the Great Hall, and her blood was - dare he say - redder than his. He really didn't care either way, but what upset him the most was how much his family's choices were causing him to not know them. Scorpius was smart - the smartest first year, actually - and he hated how he was only a Malfoy in name. He knew nothing of his heritage, nothing of where he came from.

Other than the fact that he was born from a test tube and out of necessity.

Now, as he continued to watch his father, only half-listening to the words his father was saying, he once again felt that pang of forebodance that frightened him. He knew that he would need some sort of excuse not to hear his fathers' words, but he couldn't think of anything.

Glancing across the field, where Ms. Hermione was trying desperately to talk to her daughter, an idea formed in his head.

He wouldn't be in Slytherin if he wasn't good at planning.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?" Draco looked up from his work, trying to act like he hadn't been paying attention to the look on his son's face.

"What time will we be finishing today?"

Draco paused, standing up to look at his watch. "Well, it's only a quarter past noon now. We probably won't be done until dinner time, whenever that is."

"Oh." Scorpius looked down, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

Draco watched his son with careful eyes. He knew that Scorpius was expecting a lecture; it was all he ever seemed to have to do to the child. However, he wasn't going to use this time for that. He was here because he needed his son to understand that he shouldn't be worrying about what happened in the past; Scorpius should be focusing on his future and how he could shape the Malfoy family. "Come here, Scorpius."

Scorpius looked up at him warily, reluctantly making his way over to his father. When he approached him, Draco handed him a tape measure.

"Now, I know what you told Ms. Hermione about two-plus-two being fish was a load of horse shite. I know you also are one of the top students in your class." He paused, taking in Scorpius' sudden scowl, taking a moment to smirk slightly. "And I also know that she told us that we could use magic to measure the field. There's a specific spell for it, but I think I'd like to teach you how to make objects move differently than your average _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Scorpius arched an eyebrow. What in the world was his father talking about?

As Scorpius listened to his father direct and teach him how to do the spell he was talking about, Hermione was busy trying to get Rose to open up to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose throw something at her mother and run away. Scorpius also noticed how Ms. Hermione stood there, flabbergasted, a look on her face and a posture he'd never seen before.

Scorpius had never seen anyone cry.

The way her shoulders shook mesmerized him. The way her face crumpled, nose scrunched and lips rolled in, opened enough for her to suck multiple breaths in. He watched as she let herself go for the briefest of moments, only to suddenly stand straight up, roll her shoulders back, lean her head from side to side, lift her chin up tall, and march in the direction her daughter went.

"Well, Scorp, I think that's going to be all for today," Draco murmured from beside his son, silently brewing over the incident he had seen as well. He waved his hand, materials shrinking and moving into his pocket as he, too, walked towards the castle. "Lunch is in an hour," he called back to Scorpius, turning his head over his shoulder.

Scorpius followed his father into the castle, forgetting all about the Quidditch field momentarily. There were more important things to be worried about.

Lunch was tense; Rose opted to fill a plate full with food and then head back to her room. Scorpius sat with his father at the Slytherin table, while Hermione sat by herself at the Gryffindor table, silently penning a letter furiously to someone. "Is she writing to Rose's father?"

"I'm not sure," Draco answered, taking a bite of his food. The soft sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a golden light onto his sharp features, softening them a little. Scorpius watched his father look over at Hermione, not sure how he felt about seeing that particular look on his father's face.

Regardless, he knew that nothing good could come of it.

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Leave a review!

~QueenRoyallt


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey everyone! Sorry for this not being out sooner; I work two jobs and attend school full-time. So, here's the latest installment! Enjoy and be sure to leave a review!**

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"Yes, I am well aware of that small fact… Yes, do you think I'm stupid?... Good. Glad we're on the same page here… Really? You'd do that for me? Merlin, you're a lifesaver… Thank you so much, Viktor… Yes, I'll see you in a week or two. Owl me when you get in town and we'll meet for lunch… Good-bye." Hermione sighed, shoving her phone into her pocket and leaning against the brick wall. She was unaware of the pair of eyes watching her ever so slightly, waiting patiently to strike.

She glanced around suspiciously, waiting to see if Draco would come out of his hiding place. She knew he had been following her since they parted after dinner; the great debacle resulting in Rose tossing an inkwell in her general direction had put a stop to their building plans. Hermione had rescended to her favorite spot outside, long before the stressful days of being a wife and mother had started in on her.

During lunch, Hermione had penned a letter to her longtime friend and infamous retired Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. He had always helped her when she needed advice, and he was actually Rose and Hugo's godfather. Unfortunately, Ron had never liked him, but Hermione never understood why. For the whole time their marriage had lasted, she had been faithful to him. She was not that type of woman.

Thankfully, Viktor was more than willing to work with her on building a professional field, and since he would be coming into town soon, she only had a few moments to relax before needing to pull herself into enough to be able to handle her pre-teen daughter, an ex-Death Eater, and a bad-English-speaking meathead.

Shifting around in the pocket of her sweatshirt, Hermione found the box she was looking for, and the sleek apparatus accompanying it. She slid the box out, popped open the lid, and took a circular oblong object out of it, balancing it between her fingers. Sliding the box back into her pocket, she rolled her right thumb over the apparatus, lighting the object in her other hand. Placing the object between her lips, she slowly breathed in.

 _Ooh._

She had never meant to pick up the habit. Her parents were dentists; they would surely shun and disown her if they knew about her vice. But, when you spent the year before reaching adulthood living in a tent in random forests in England and about a day of said year bleeding on a floor and having your muscles burned from the inside out, you tend to try and find a way of relief.

Of course, she hadn't smoked while pregnant with either Rose of Hugo, and she made it a point to never do it in front of anyone else, or go out during public events. And, being a witch, her life expectancy was already longer than many others, anyways, so it didn't really matter to her what her lungs looked like; a simple bubble charm would make sure she was okay.

As she puffed the smoke out and watched it billow away from her in the darkness, she faintly heard the crunching of grass close to her. Hermione took another puff, fully expecting a lecture to come from it.

"Got any spares?"

She snorted. "You're a doctor."

"Everyone's got bad habits."

"Buzz off," she muttered, pushing herself off the building. After taking another drag of her cigarette, she flicked the ashes off the end of her stick, listening to them hit the ground softly.

"Stressed out much, then?"

"Like you don't know."

"I don't know why you have an attitude with me right now."

She laughed. "You sound like my father."

"Well, I do have a son."

She smiled softly. "Yeah, one who adores you immensely."

The soft red glow from her cigarette helped her see his white blond hair move as he nodded his head. "That he does."

They were quiet for a while, her smoking, him just standing there. Finally, she broke the silence. "Is there a particular reason you followed me out here?"

"I was wondering if you had been able to make new blueprints, actually."

She shook her head. "No, I haven't."

Draco nodded. "Okay then. Well, have a good night."

Hermione tipped her head. "You, too." She watched him walk back towards one of the side entrances to the castle.

He turned back to her suddenly. "Oh, and Granger?" He paused as she looked over at him. "Your daughter loves you, too. It'll take time, though."

Hermione's eyes followed his figure as the soft light of the castle enveloped him as he walked deeper into it. Sighing to herself, she took a final puff of her cigarette and squashed it onto the ground, making sure the butt was put out before walking away.

The next morning came and went. Hermione said goodbye to her daughter (who just shrugged and walked away to await her newfound friends in the Great Hall) and the Malfoys (who also just nodded in her general direction), and before she left she informed McGonagall of the small feat they had accomplished. After saying goodbye to her, Hermione walked out of Hogwarts towards the apparition point, bringing her wand out of her pocket and quickly closing her eyes, imagining the warm, cozy feeling of home.

As she twisted away, Hermione's stomach flipped. It was a strange feeling, apparition. She kept her eyes closed, focusing on her destination, as her body was twisted and pulled in fifty million directions.

Hermione had survived the cruciatus curse, but nothing compared to apparition.

When her feet were firmly planted on the floor, Hermione took a moment to open her eyes, looking at her surroundings.

All of her furniture was gone.

Shaking her head a couple of times, she blinked twice, hoping that would do the trick.

Except it didn't.

Sucking in a breath, Hermione ran all over her house, trying to find out where her things were. Couches, pictures, _books_ …

Someone had taken her precious books.

After searching her home high and low, murmuring spell removing charms, and practically pulling her hair out, Hermione noticed a note on the kitchen counter.

 _This is what happens when you don't allow me to see my daughter. And, before you go bat-shite crazy, there was never a clause in the divorce papers outlining who received what as far as belongings went. You're more than able to furnish the house again._

 _Maybe Malfoy can help you, since you're spending all your time with him. Thanks for the stuff. ~Ron_

At first, she was angry. _How_ dare _the bastard take her things?_ She had saved for _years_ to be able to buy them the house she was currently living in - this large, spacious, empty house - and he went and took everything away from her.

She never thought she'd see the day where she truly hated Ron.

He hadn't always been a bad person. He just had inferiority issues. He loved his children, and Hermione could only guess that that was what propelled him to do the horrible things he was doing to her. It wasn't like he had cheated on her; she just knew that she couldn't handle making strides in her career all while baking pies that could rival Molly Weasley's. Hermione had tried desperately to convey this to Ron, that it was actually _her_ that was insecure about her abilities in life, but he had found a way to make it seem like he was the victim. As usual.

And then he left again.

To the public eye, it had been an amicable split. They made a public announcement, said they were going to be civil for their children, but behind closed doors, things were a mess. Hermione had tried to be understanding; she almost just let him have everything he wanted in the divorce settlement.

And then he threatened to take her children.

That was it for her. Hermione hated how he ruled her emotions. How he was able to manipulate her into becoming the crazed woman she always knew she could be. Ron had made her look insane in front of the divorce lawyers, who were made to testify in the Wizengamot that she had showcased unfit behavior.

And then Hermione gave them the sob story.

" _I was tortured for hours by arguably the second most dark wizard our country's ever seen. I have medical papers to prove that I suffer from lingering stress from it. They're Muggle papers, but they're real."_

The Wizengamot had eaten it up like candy. In a new world, where simultaneously attempting to integrate with Muggles had become "the thing," the ability to catch a look at Muggle medicinal papers and records was something the elitists had been dying to see. Thankfully, it had worked. The court had sent a death glare over to Ron, and they had ruled that joint custody would be best for the family.

Of course, that hadn't been before Ron's lawyer had called the papers into question. " _How do you know those papers actually are real? Ms. Granger would've had to betray the law of secrecy in order to fully explain her stress."_

And then Hermione's lawyer had spoken up: " _Well, sir, there are ways to inform one of a stressful and traumatic situation without having to betray the law."_ He had paused, a slight smirk on his face. " _Besides, everyone who knows this psychological Healer knows he's a Squib descendant of the Lestrange family. He was more than willing to assist the woman who helped put his family to shame through her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, as they call it_."

That was all it had taken. Suddenly, Hermione had the entire court on her side, as well as the newspapers. However, being the bigger person, she informed all of them that what needed to be seen was a united-while-dividing front, not _Two War Heroes Go Head-to-Head for Children!_ plastered over every headline.

But, it had still ended in this for Hermione.

Realistically, there was nothing she could do. Ron was right; they hadn't discussed the division of assets and property. But how could they, when they were fighting a custody battle at the same time? Divorce in the magical world was a very tricky thing, and, thankfully, their vows hadn't been the kind that would only be broken in the time of death for either of them, but it still didn't help Hermione's case. Now she was home, alone, with no furniture and a cold feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

Where had he taken the things anyways?


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone. I apologize for my sporadic updating; I'm a very busy college student who's trying to graduate in three years and balance two jobs. Thankfully, I had some time today, so I wrote this in two hours and am hoping you all enjoy! Don't forget to leave a review!**

 **Responses to reviews from the last two chapters (since I didn't do them the last time I updated):**

 **Chester99:** _I actually want their relationships to be different! Not necessarily an AU type of thing, but more like how things aren't always what they should seem to happen. Hermione doesn't have to have a good relationship with her children just because she's the protagonist, and vice versa for Draco. As for Ron and Rose, you'll get a small answer in this chapter._

 **MissesE:** _I'm the same way with my dad, too! I always felt Scorpius would be an insightful character, especially since he's growing up in a post-war era. I wanted Draco's ending gaze to either be interpreted one of two ways: calculating or warm. You'll see this chapter what Hermione does!_

 **Brittany:** _Rose's behavior is essential to this entire storyline. I understand that reading about horrible children can be a bit heartbreaking, but we're also talking about the same series that included child soldiers and a sixteen-year-old plot the murder of a centuries-old man. The age doesn't necessarily matter. I hope that you can spot the part in this chapter that sort of explain's Rose's behavior. If you can't, let me know and I'll inform you next chapter!_

 **Pepperfishh:** _There's a reason for Ron's terrible behavior! I do believe he's a wholly childish and immature person, and when you're upset about something as big as not being able to see one of your children, I can understand his actions. However, Ron isn't necessarily the bad guy in this story, even though he his acting of his own accord, and his actions are causing some serious problems!_

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Viktor Krum was well-known as a terrific sportsman. And, those who first met him often thought he was a bit of what the Americans had deemed a "meathead." However, his closest friends and family knew that he was actually a very knowledgeable man. Most of the problem stemmed from his low ability to speak English properly; being a native speaker of a Slavic language made it more difficult to do so.

Back in the day, he probably had been much more of a meathead than he was now. He was older, wiser. No longer a professional Quidditch player, but, instead, a sideline coach who helped develop strategies and practices. Most people were unaware of his ingenious analytic skills.

All except Hermione Granger.

The two had kept constant contact since he had left at the end of her fourth year. At first, he had wanted something more with her; however, she felt as though the slight three year age gap between the two of them would be a little too much for her. She was also heavily involved in saving the magical world with Harry Potter, and a long distance relationship was something neither of them had wanted to deal with.

And, being the gentleman that he had been raised to be, Viktor respected her wishes.

Then, after everything had calmed down and Voldemort had been defeated, Hermione had married Ron Weasley - whom Viktor had personally never liked - but, since he was more Hermione's friend, he'd supported them in everything. Viktor was the godfather to their two children, which had angered Ron immensely, but Hermione had persisted nonetheless. And, while Viktor never had the opportunity to see them often, he still enjoyed reading Hermione's letters or Skyping them.

Currently, he was sharing a hotel room with Hermione because all of her things had been taken.

Now, Hermione was too tired to deal with Ron at the moment, and Viktor understood that.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't.

"No, Viktor. That's not what is going to help me here," Hermione sighed, staring down into her mug of hot tea. "I just need to go buy new things. All that furniture reeked of him anyways."

"But it's the point, Hermione," he said, his voice thick.

"I know, Viktor. I just want some radio silence at the moment. Things are super stressful as it is. Kingsley is upset that I'm taking all this time off to help rebuild the field, when he had approved of it three weeks ago. And, Astoria has been constantly contacting me about how her son is doing, but how can I tell her any of that when my own daughter isn't talking to me? And, Hugo refuses to spend time with me anymore because of the things Ron has been feeding to him, and I really think Lavender's staying with him in his new place because Hugo keeps talking about there being Wolfsbane potion all over Ron's flat. Oh, and Hugo's also been getting these bruises which strangely remind me of Muggle cancer but I took him to see a Healer and she said nothing was wrong, but the poor boy is so pale and I don't know what to do and -"

Viktor leaned forward, placing a hand over Hermione's. "It's okay, Her-mi-o-ne." At her incessant shake of her head, he smiled softly. "Tell me why you wanted me here. We'll talk about that now."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm sure you heard about the immense fire my child caused. Well, we have to rebuild it, and everything is up to us. Now, Draco Malfoy has given assurance to Minerva that we could use the Malfoy vaults for it. However, I'm unaware of what to do. Draco's only played in stadiums, but he's unaware of the mechanics behind it."

Viktor nodded. "You need someone that knows Quidditch. Me."

"You."

"Do you have blueprints?"

Hermione smiled widely. "Of course!" She grabbed her bag and pulled out a stack of small papers, which she tapped lightly with her wand, and they enlarged to include the dimensions of the field. "Our first get together allowed us to be able to figure all of this out. I was thinking that the students deserve something a bit more professional grade, something that will entice parental involvement and assurance that Hogwarts is doing better than ever. I'm afraid that people will pull their children out if they feel it'll be too dangerous again."

Viktor nodded, twisting the papers towards him. "I can work with this. Give me three days."

"Oh, thank you so much! Now, would you like to accompany me to the furniture store Astoria recommended for me? Or do you need to be getting anywhere?"

"I'll go with you. I'd love to see Hugo today, though."

"Definitely!" Hermione put the papers back in her bag and they left the hotel room to shop for furniture.

"So you talk with Astoria now?" Viktor asked as they perused the very high-end furniture scattered around the floors of the modern shop.

Hermione glanced up at the bright track lights hanging from the ceiling. "Yes, as weird as that is. I just hope she doesn't think she can have an opinion on my votes for Magical Creature laws."

Viktor snorted. "It's okay, Her-mi-o-ne, I'm sure she appreciates your help."

"I'm sure she does." Hermione smiled at a salesperson as he approached with a large black binder filled with custom furniture.

Three hours later, and Hermione had spent almost all of her fortune to refurnish her home. Thankfully, everything fit better with the character of the home more than the previous furniture had, but that was probably because she and Ron had been more focused on their children than what their home looked like.

Something Astoria probably never had to worry about.

As they left the furniture store, Hermione continuously thanking the salesperson for his tremendous help, her cell phone rang. When the heard the voice on the other end, she instantly paled.

"Viktor, we have to go to the hospital, now!" She grabbed his hand and apparated them instantly on the spot.

For someone who loved flying, Viktor hated apparition. It terrified him to no end that he couldn't really see where he was going, only hoping he was going to end up where he imagined. However, he was in an area where he just had to trust Hermione's locational abilities.

And, thankfully, she was spot on.

Viktor had never been into England's magical hospital before. It reminded him of the ones he would see on American television shows: bland and monotone. The walls were all white, and the ceiling was all tile. "What's wrong?" he asked as Hermione took his hand and led him through the halls.

"Hugo's in the emergency room. He passed out at school," she told him as she marched up to the information desk with him. "Hermione Granger here to see my son, Hugo Weasley. He was admitted five minutes ago."

"Ah, Ms. Granger. Healer Malfoy said to be expecting you. Here's the pass to get the elevator to work. I hope your son feels better. Should we contact Mr. Weasley about his son?"

Hermione paused. Would it be worth it? Ron would go in, guns blazing, especially if Draco was caring for Hugo at the moment. Sighing, she relented, despite her gut telling her otherwise. "Of course. However, please refrain from mentioning who is caring for him. Tell him that when he gets to the information desk, I will come down and escort him up. Thank you."

The nurse nodded, and Hermione and Viktor proceeded to find Hugo's room. After having another nurse escort them inside, Hermione had to stop herself from blanching at seeing her youngest child laying on a hospital bed.

It reminded her so much of seeing Ron after he'd been poisoned that she almost couldn't hold it together.

Viktor took a seat in the large arm chair that was up against the window on the far side of the room, watching his friend straighten herself out so that she could take care of her son. The sound of an identification card being swiped through the lock sounded through the room, and Malfoy walked in with a colleague of his, who startled when he noticed Viktor in the corner.

"I was unaware you knew young Mr. Weasley," he said, moving to shake the man's hand. "Dr. Ryan Wundee. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Krum."

"Yes, it is. However, I believe you have a patient to discuss," Viktor noted, nodding towards Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of the bed her son was sleeping in.

Ryan nodded. "Of course, sir. Ms. Granger?" Hermione turned towards him. "I'm Dr. Ryan Wundee. I'm an oncologist here at the hospital that bridges -"

"Muggle medicine with magical. I'm aware, Dr. Wundee. America is one of the countries that prides itself on an inclusive culture that I wish England would take on; however, that's not my department. It's a pleasure to meet you," she stuck out her hand and smiled grimly as Ryan shook it.

"I told you she talked a lot," Draco muttered, smirking at his former classmate.

Hermione smirked back, but it vanished when one of the monitors beeped. "So, he has leukemia or something similar?"

Ryan nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, both the magical and Muggle worlds don't have very much in terms of treatment, but the outcomes do look better now than they did when we were his age."

She sighed. "I _knew_ it was cancer. But Ronald never allowed me to have him seen by Muggle doctors."

"Mr. Weasley never appeared to be the type to undermine Muggle technology and treatment. I'm sorry he felt that way." Ryan dipped his head. "Thankfully, Healer Malfoy was on call in the emergency wing when your son came through. He knew to call the both of us. I can give you the treatment brochures if you'd like."

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"So there's no magical treatment?" Viktor spoke up from his place. All three adults turned to him, and the two men's faces looked grim.

"Unfortunately, no. Most members of magical society do not experience this phenomena unless they've been harmed consistently with a Cruciatus curse. However, it has been creeping up more recently with children of Muggle-borns that breed with Purebloods." Hermione and Draco stiffened, and Ryan sighed. "I know blood status isn't something people like to talk about here anymore, but where I come from it's never mentioned, either. Our outlook is completely different, though. It isn't because there's been discrimination; it's because we don't see that way. Blood is blood to us. But, we also know that because the magic manifests differently - is, in fact, stronger with two parents who have had magical blood running in their systems for generations - sometimes children will get sick faster than others. Half-blooded children tend to have more problems with their immune systems. It's completely contrary to Muggle inbreeding. In the magical world, inbreeding is _good_. Magical blood is different than Muggle blood. There is actually an extra chromosome in a magical person's blood."

"Then how can you explain the influx of Muggle-born children?" Viktor asked. Draco arched an eyebrow. He never recalled Krum posing such intelligent questions when he'd spent the school year at Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Ryan went to speak, but Draco beat him to it. "The war. Magic is often explained with science - it's why we Healers exist - but it's also a connection with nature. This explains why Muggles are so much more advanced in science and physics than we are; nature has been able to provide for us. During the war, so many lives were lost because of someone who prided himself on blood status -" he paused, clearing his throat awkwardly "- that nature recognized we needed more magical beings. And so, in the eleven years since the war, there have been more magical men and women becoming part of our society. Unfortunately, it puts strain on the secrecy statute because more Muggle-borns means more Muggle parents aware of magic, and the chances they might let something slip becomes higher."

"So you still view Muggle-borns as a problem?" Viktor asked, attempting to trap Draco with his words.

Hermione sighed. "Viktor, stop. Malfoy is different now than he was back then. He's not diminishing Muggle-borns, just expressing the consequences of their existence." Her eyes darkened a bit. "I never denied the consequences of being a Muggle-born, I just thought I shouldn't be treated poorly because of it."

Draco shook his head. "And you shouldn't have. However, your condition has created a condition in your son. _You_ won't have any issues because your blood is purely magical in an odd sense, but your children will. All sorts of issues from medical, like Hugo's, to physical to emotional to -"

"Mental," Hermione murmured, as if something had dawned in her head.

Draco felt his breath intake sharpen. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and, now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. "Possibly, yes."

Hermione nodded. "Now, the nurse at the information desk was informing Ron of Hugo's condition. I'm supposed to be informed when Ron arrives, and, Draco, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay away and allow Dr. Wundee to take care of it and do the explaining."

"What, do they not like each other or something?" Ryan asked, looking between the two.

Viktor snorted. "He likes no man who takes Hermione's attention away from him."

Ryan's face developed a quizzical look as his eyes darted between the three adults, Hermione sporting a bright red blush on her face. Of course, she understood what Viktor was talking about, but Ryan didn't.

Draco grimaced as the phone in the room rang. "I'll come check on him later. I'll have one of my nurses phone and make sure Weasel - Weasley's gone." Hermione nodded, waving good-bye to him as she answered the phone.

Minutes later, Ronald Weasley came barging through the door and hugging his son.

"Mr. Weasley, please be careful! He's in a fragile condition!" Dr. Wundee begged, reaching forward to pull Ron away from his son.

"What happened?" he demanded, looking around the room. "What happened to my son?"

"He's got cancer, Ron. He passed out at school," Hermione explained, getting up to calm him. She rubbed a hand up and down his back, all while thinking that she was going crazy for doing so.

"How does he have cancer? I thought that was only a Muggle thing?"

"I can explain a bit about that," Ryan interjected, smiling softly. "I just finished explaining to your ex-wife, and I'd be happy to explain it to you as well."

Ron sighed, sitting down on the other side of the bed his wife was on. For the next twenty minutes, he conversed with Ryan about his son's condition, and when they were finished, Ron sighed heavily.

"I always knew getting involved with you would be a bad idea."

Hermione started. "Excuse me?"

"Us being together has led to our children being miscreants! Look at this, Hermione!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have to go for a bit. I'll owl you later. If Hugo wakes, tell him I love him." Ron stood then, walking out of the hospital room, slamming the door behind him.

"Well that took a quick turn," Ryan noted, staring off at the door Ron disappeared behind for a while. "I guess it's good to let Draco back in now."

Hermione nodded and leaned into Viktor as he came forward to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll see you back at the hotel?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm going to be here at the hospital from now on. I can transfigure the chair into a sofa bed. There's a shower and things in here. I'll be fine."

Viktor smiled softly. "I'll take those blueprints and have them owled to you, okay?"

"Thank you."

As Viktor left, Draco walked in. "I guess things didn't go so well with him?"

"I don't know what's wrong with him. Are you _sure_ being a pureblood doesn't affect your brain?" Hermione muttered, grabbing her sons hand to hold.

"Honestly, it's not my research. But, I'm sure we're all a little bit crazy."

"Could the Half-blood theories explain why Riddle was so fucked up?" Hermione suddenly asked, turning her head to stare at the Healers.

Draco shrugged. "Probably. It makes sense to me."

Hermione sighed. "So he wasn't just evil. He gets to claim medical insanity, just like the rest of them."

"He may have been a lot like Hitler, but Hitler definitely wasn't crazy," Ryan noted, causing Hermione to smile a bit. "I can have someone send in an actual bed if you'd like, Ms. Granger."

"You're staying here?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Hermione sighed. "Well, I currently have no furniture in my house, so I was planning on staying with Viktor until my new things came in."

"Do you move or something?" Ryan asked.

She chuckled. "My crazy ex-husband decided to be a jerk and steal all my furniture. It sounds completely ridiculous, but he did it. Sometimes I wonder if he's acting of his own will, but he's always had a history of acting childish when he doesn't get his way."

Ryan nodded. "Well, I'm officially your son's doctor, so if you need anything, use the phone. My number's automatically programmed for number one. Draco's is number two."

"Thank you, gentlemen," she murmured.

Ryan smiled, walking out after clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Good luck, mate."

Draco gave a slight nod and waited until after the door shut to speak. "I can run some tests on Rose during the winter break if you'd like me to."

"You're a psychiatrist?" Hermione's voice was cold.

"Did Weasel say anything to you when he was here? Because you sound like it."

"Oh, just how he never should have been with me in the first place."

"The asshole."

She laughed bitterly. "Well, that's Ronald for you."

"Look, Granger, I understand finding out you're basically the cause for your childrens' health problems can be a bit upsetting -"

"A bit?" she interrupted, snorting.

"- _but_ , you have to remember that all of the information isn't something that you knew eleven years ago. It's just like someone with a disability - you're their mother, and you can't let what's inside of you define you. In other words, it may literally _be_ your fault, but you shouldn't feel that way because you were unaware this would happen."

"Thank you, Mr. Eloquent."

He smirked. "One must not tell lies, ma'am."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I think she was crazier than Voldemort."

"She was. She threatened to do the same thing to me once when she thought I was lying that we couldn't find the door to your little club's meeting place."

"You almost have to write 'I must not tell lies' in your own blood?"

"Oh, yes. Snape was actually okay with it. Told me I deserved it for being such a prat. I always knew something was off about it. Now come to find out he was just a sucker for a girl."

Hermione sighed. "I love Harry, I do, but I think his life would've been a lot different if he'd been a Snape instead of a Potter."

Draco paused. "Has Harry been easy to get sick? I know he's been easy to get hurt; he spent more time in the infirmary than I did during Quidditch season."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Actually, yes."

Draco sighed. "Well, this just makes this Half-blood theory so much more reliable." He turned towards the door. "You need anything Granger, or you notice any changes in Hugo's monitors, then page me."

"Okay."

He paused with his hand wrapped around the handle, turning back to her with a slight smirk on his face. "Oh, and if you take the stairs all the way down the hall on your left, the lock to the roof is broken. It's a great place to avoid wandering cameras from spotting you relaxing. The sunset is wonderful from up there, too."

Hermione couldn't help herself from smiling as the door swished shut behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone! I'm officially on Winter Break, so I don't really have much to do. Chances are I'll be updating a few times more than usual!**

 **Review Responses:**

 **MissesE:** _Honestly, I like Ron's character dark. It gives him a sense of realism, and the uncalled for statements he gives Hermione are meaningful, but it will be revealed later. And, there's a bit more to the theory that I've written, which will be revealed later as well. I see these chapters as the rising action to my story, and I don't plan on telling anyone when the climax is._

 **Guest 1:** _Thanks for the praise! It's my hope that everyone who comes across this story will enjoy it. I know there seems to be a lot going on right now, but everything will all come together in due time. Hermione's world is supposed to be realistic; not everything in the wizarding world is supposed to be perfect. Draco's compassion is part of why I liked the Healer idea; he was great at potions, why couldn't he be a healer? Also, he's a Slytherin; they're supposed to be a bit introverted. He comes from a world where showing emotions isn't allowed. But, I think being around open characters like Ryan and Astoria have helped him with that._

 **Guest 2:** _Are you the same person as Guest 1? They're for two different chapters, so that's why I'm asking. If not, then it's my mistake. :) With Draco's occupation, he's supposed to be detached, but he's also working for people he knows, which makes it harder for him to discern between the two worlds. Also, I purposefully meant for the concept to be a bit odd. Magic is an odd thing, which means that some things from it will be odd, too. Then again, I'm not a witch, so I'm not sure if any of this is could be feasible. Rose may or may not be unstable. That's why Draco wants to run some tests the next time he sees her._

* * *

"It's so nice to finally meet the matriarch of the Potter household," Astoria gushed, attempting to keep her voice neutral and calm as she shook hands with Ginny Potter. The two women were visiting with Hermione in the hospital, and they were currently sitting under warming charms on the roof, waiting for Hermione to finish smoking her cigarette.

"I have actually been waiting _years_ to get to speak with you. We often had classes together, of course, but we never had the chance to actually talk," Ginny responded, nervously running her fingers through her volumized hair. It reminded Astoria of something from the eighties, except with a bit more movement.

Good Lord, did she have to take both women under her wing to teach them proper etiquette? Ginny was even a pureblood, for goodness sakes! "You're absolutely right, we did. I apologize for my rude behavior back in the day. I can assure you, it was all an act to keep myself and my sister safe."

Ginny smiled softly; it was the smile of a mother. "Of course. It's a new era, all is forgiven."

Astoria smiled, and the two women continued to chat together as they spoke while waiting. In fact, they were in a compromising fit of giggles when Hermione approached them after finishing her cigarette.

"Don't tell anyone about what I just did," Hermione muttered, pointing a finger at the both of them. She glanced between the two of them, who had large smiles on their faces. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Astoria said, standing up. She brushed off the back of her long caramel colored jacket, adjusting the blanket scarf around her neck. "Now, can I visit with my ex-husband?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione led the women back towards Hugo's room. "I'm sure he's got things to do, Astoria. Merlin, were you this whiny while you were married? Because you sound like Pansy."

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to Parkinson," she hissed, tossing her jet black waves over her shoulder. "I am degrees more sophisticated than that slut."

"Woah," Ginny murmured, flashing a bright smile at one of the nurses who passed them with a look of confusion on her face. " _Someone_ 's a bit of a spitfire."

"I'm sure you know all about it, Red," Astoria retorted as Hermione swiped her guest ID through the lock for Hugo's room. The lock gave a ringing noise of approval, flashing green briefly while it unlocked. Hermione twisted the handle and walked in, grimacing at how pasty her son looked. He was asleep, again, but it appeared that one of the nurses had come in to switch out the bag of medicine in his IV. Sighing, she sat down on one of the chairs, rubbing her fingers across her forehead.

"Is he okay?" Ginny asked, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"His vitals do look better," Draco commented, walking in with a clipboard and pen in his hands. He nodded at the two women, addressing Hermione next. "I'd like to do some more tests on him, if you don't mind. Dr. Wundee would like to know his results, as well."

"Sure. Whatever can save my son," Hermione murmured. "We also need to go over the plans for the stadium whenever you get a chance. Viktor owled them to me earlier."

Draco pulled his pocket watch out, watching the hand tick. "I have my lunch break in twenty minutes. Meet me in the coffee shop downstairs?"

"We can watch Hugo and let you know as soon as anything happens," Astoria added, casting a pointed glance at Hermione, silently telling her to go.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, nodding her head. "I'll meet you down there."

"Great." Draco flashed her a smile and bid the other ladies good-bye.

After she heard the door click, Astoria turned to Hermione. "So, what's up with you and my ex?"

"Absolutely nothing," Hermione ground out, glaring at both the women.

Astoria sighed. "He's slow sometimes. That's all."

"Astoria, I know you want him to settle down, but I can assure you, he doesn't have his eyes on me."

"Well, he certainly has his eyes on a certain part of you."

"Oh, gross," Ginny muttered.

"It's true."

"I'd rather not think about the son of the man who tried to murder me as capable of ogling at my best friend and ex-sister-in-law, thank you very much."

"Okay, can we stop talking about this? It's really quite awkward," Hermione hissed, adjusting herself in her chair.

Astoria smirked, glancing around the room. "Well, regardless, you're not meeting him for coffee looking like that."

"Like what?" Hermione glanced down at her jeans and trainers, a large dark red sweatshirt coddling her. She played with the strings while Astoria got up and started rummaging through Hermione's luggage.

" _That_. Hermione, you've been spending too much time in comfort clothes. I understand your ex-husband's gone mental, your son's dying, and your daughter is being a teenage bitch, but that doesn't mean you get to look like shit. In my experience, I always felt better if I wore something that made me appear 'dressed up' than the situation called for."

" _Excuse me_?" Hermione's voice rose slightly as she stood up from her chair, hand gripping the handle of her wand.

"You heard me. It sounds completely insensitive, but you have to remember that where I come from, these things call for strength rather than basking in sadness. You put a stone cold face on, and you make everyone want to be able to handle the situation like you can. Just trust me," Astoria pleaded as she started rummaging through Hermione's luggage, trying desperately to find something that would work. While Ginny glared faces at Hermione to keep her calm, Astoria pulled out a few pieces and continuously rearranged them until she nodded her head briefly with approval and grabbed the pieces, shoving them into Hermione's chest. "Here. Go put these on. I'll give you shoes when you come out of the bathroom."

Huffing, Hermione marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"She's pissed," Ginny commented.

Astoria shrugged. "Do I look like I care?"

Sighing, Ginny settled back in her seat as they waited for Hermione to come outside of the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Hermione was trying her hardest to resist the urge to grab a bottle of Sleekeazy's from her luggage because her unruly curls looked out of place with the clothes Astoria had picked out. The pair of form-fitting jeans transformed into something a little more sophisticated with the peter-pan collared lightweight black and white striped top Astoria had picked out to go with it. Sighing, she pulled her hair up into a high bun, hoping she wouldn't be scolded for taking the initiative to fix the rat's nest atop her head.

"Good job with the bun," Astoria commented with a quick nod of approval. "I was going to suggest that." She held up two pairs of shoes, one a classic black pump and another a shiny black flat. "Now, I'd choose the pumps, but that's because I was practically born in heels. However, I also know you've never been one to enjoy anything remotely feminine. So, I found the flats. But whatever you choose to wear is fine."

"Let me just make these heels a little shorter," Hermione said, waving her wand slightly. The heels of the pumps shrunk about an inch and a half, and she took them from a smiling Astoria and slipped them on her feet. "Why do I honestly feel like you're setting me up for a date?"

Astoria shrugged. "It is what it is, my dear."

"Please let me know as soon as something changes with his condition." Hermione nodded towards her son, who was still sleeping. He appeared to be having no intentions of waking anytime soon, and so Ginny and Astoria shooed Hermione out into the hallway.

"I almost forgot these when I left; I'm so glad I remembered them," Hermione told Draco as she sat down across from him. She slid the blueprints over to him and spoke again as he unrolled them, "I hope that these changes and plans won't dent your vaults too much."

Draco shrugged, rolling them back up again. "Well, I don't foresee us going bankrupt over them, so that's okay. And the list of business he put on the bottom of each plan to acquire the materials and even quick services from will help immensely. Thank you for contacting him."

She nodded. "It's alright. Viktor is great with this sort of thing. I just want to make sure the children have to do some heavy lifting, too. It's important they learn their lessons."

"Of course," he agreed, taking a sip of his coffee, "I'm sure we'll have plenty of time over the winter holiday to do so. It's practically a month long this year."

"I know. It wouldn't be a problem to leave Hugo with Ron, but now that he's here, I'm just afraid that something will happen and I won't be able to get to him."

"He's in good hands with Ryan. Hugo'll be fine, I'm sure. I would really like to run some tests on Rose, though. I think there's a medical reason as to why she might be lashing out. This way we can get her the real help she'll need."

Hermione sighed. "I just don't want her labeled something because of me. And Ron's been flying off the handle for some odd reason lately, and I don't know why."

"Well, I already knew the Weasel was crazy, but you're right. Something is seriously wrong with him." He paused. "If you'd like, I can have Blaise Zabini tail him for a little bit. He works in the -"

"Hit Wizard department, I know," Hermione murmured. "I've had to work with him on a numerous amount of occasions."

"You work for the Care of Magical Creatures, why would you have to work with him?"

"Mistreatment usually has deeper roots than what Aurors can handle. Long story short, he's saved my ass a few times."

"Glad to hear even the great Hermione Granger isn't immune to Zabini's accuracy with his wand."

"If you're implying something other than what you said, I'm going to tell you that you're completely wrong."

He shrugged. "Blaise's a charmer. I wouldn't have been surprised."

"Well, be surprised. I was under the impression he was with Parkinson."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Draco barked, shaking his head with a smile on his face. "They're just great friends. We all are. Goodness, you're daft."

"I'm going to pretend that was a compliment rather than an insult."

"Take it how you want to, Granger."

She rolled her eyes, taking one last sip of her coffee. "Well, I've got to get back to Hugo. Besides, I'm tired of wearing these tight-ass jeans. I feel like I'm trying to be twenty-one again."

"Whose idea was that, anyways?" Draco asked, looking her up and down.

"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count," Hermione muttered, checking her back pocket to make sure she had her guest ID.

"My ex-wife has a knack for picking out good-looking clothes," Draco sighed, standing as well. "I'll be up to run those tests on Hugo in a little bit, Granger. See you later."

"Later!" Hermione called, heading in the opposite direction he was.

It wasn't until later, when Draco made another comment about her appearance - which had changed to a pair of black yoga pants and a long sleeved t-shirt -, did she realize that he'd actually said she'd looked good.

And she wasn't sure what to do with the satisfied feeling in her stomach.

* * *

 **Leave a review, guys!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone! Sorry this has been such a long time since I last updated, but I've been busy with school and work and everything. Here's the next chapter!**

 **Review responses:**

 **MissesE:** _I love the three girls together! I definitely think them as a Trio is a very interesting concept that I'm excited to cultivate._

 **:** _Reviews like yours are what I live for. Thank you for such a strong review full of attentive criticisms and inquiries. So, let me address them. I think the dynamic between Hermione and Viktor was very downplayed by Rowling. She mainly used Viktor as a way to get everyone to notice how Hermione had transformed and is so much more than just her brains. I think, bring that she's such a cultured person, she's keep in touch with him over the years. This chapter is from Rose's perspective, but I won't have them interact very much until a little later (part of my plan). I don't want Ron's behavior to seem realistic to his character within the books. From what I'm manipulating his character to be, he's very spontaneous and narcissistic. I want him to never seem very rational, and there's a reason for that, as well. As far as Draco goes, I'm using the titles "Doctor" and "Healer" interchangeably. As the Wizarding World evolves, so is its medicine. Draco has attended both Wizarding and Muggle medical schools, so he can be addressed as either. Especially since one of his closest colleagues and friends is involved in conceptualizing Muggle medicine with Wizarding. For Hermione's overall state of fashion and appearance, well, you're right, she never had time to look "good" like most of the other girls. However, for her, "presentable" and "fashionable" are two different things. Presentable to her means simple black skirt suit with white blouse, not bright red pixie pants, chambray denim button up underneath a fitted leopard print blazer, and gold-tipped black ballet flats (which, remember, in this fic the adults have just reached their thirties, so this type of fashion is completely acceptable, especially since witches and wizards age slower than Muggles). Not being dressed up at the hospital is something that I feel all mothers would be when they're too busy worrying about their child rather than their clothes, including Hermione. I chose Lavender for that particular scene because she and Ron already have a history, and it ended badly, and her character seems like to type to practically go after anything that smiles at her. I also never said that there was an actual relationship between the two, but you'll just have to wait and see if I choose to have them do so._

 **Daphne:** _I'm a realist, what can I say? The characters get a bit OOC, but I believe that the actions I give them are their hidden personalities underneath and what I want them to be. I try to give glimpses between books characters and my characters._

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Rose stared down at the snow as it fell in swirls from the grey sky, secretly wishing that she could be leaving with the hoards of students that were rushing across the lawns to the horseless carriages, yelling and laughing all while throwing poorly-made snowballs and trying to provoke Filch and his butt-ugly cat.

But, there she was, stuck in that goddamn tower, all by herself. Blinking, she pressed her palms to her temples. The headaches she'd been experiencing had been getting worse lately, but Professor Longbottom had attributed them to the stress she'd been facing after finding out about her brother's sickness.

At first, she didn't understand. Okay, her brother was sick. What did that matter? It wasn't until Scorpius had found an armload of books on the subject that she had finally understood.

Her brother was dying.

At first, it was weird, having Scorpius help her. But, since her mother had apparently written him a letter asking him to talk to Rose because she felt that Rose wouldn't open any of the letters she sent her way, Rose felt obligated to listen to him. Of course, being watched like a hawk by the Headmistress and her Head of House meant that she had no choice but to sigh and rip open the thick letter from her mother. After reading it, she had no idea what any of it meant.

That's where Scorpius came in.

He'd sat there, across from her, in the library while she feverently read everything she could get her hands on. While her temper and love for Quidditch came from her father - the father she detested not being able to see and spend time with - she really had inherited her mother's love for books. After three hours and ten books later, Rose had learned that, once again, this was all her mother's fault.

The divorce.

The staying behind during breaks.

And, now, her brother's sickness.

Rose was beyond angry that her mother would do something like this to her and to her family. For the rest of the break she'd have to see her mother and face the fact that it was all her mother's fault her brother wouldn't be smiling for the Christmas holiday.

When the door opened to her dormitory and Professor Longbottom told her of her mother's arrival, Rose was reluctant to go. She knew she'd say something rude to her mother; it was inevitable, but she also didn't want to ignore her. Seeing her mother cry was something Rose wasn't used to, and lately, she'd been the cause of it. For Rose, her heart would tighten every time her mother's eyes would glass over.

But it didn't change the fact that her mother was the cause of everything bad in her life.

The angry thoughts clouded her mind as she scuffed her way down the hall. For a brief moment, she'd been feeling okay, and now another headache had come back, causing her nerves to be on end as she walked into the Great Hall. Her mother sat with Mr. Malfoy - the man her father had taught her to despise, and still wrote her about to the day - going over some large papers with the Headmistress, who was nodding excitedly. Scorpius wandered in right beside her, stopping and whispering so that the adults wouldn't become aware of their presence.

"Just tell her the truth, Rose. Parents hate it when kids lie."

"But why should I give her what she wants? She hasn't given me what I want."

"Because she might give you that if you tell her what you want."

"She knows what I want," Rose grumbled, glaring at the boy who had spent the better part of the year tormenting her.

He smiled, but it wasn't really a smile, Rose figured. It was more of a half twitch of his mouth, but it made his face look both sinister and… comical? She didn't know whether to laugh at him or run away in fear.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say my son was insulting your daughter at the moment," Draco commented, nodding towards the two children at the front of the room.

"Knowing Rose, it's the other way around," Hermione murmured as she turned herself on the bench to face them. "Come sit down, children!"

Begrudgingly, Rose moved forward, taking a seat next to her mother. They were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and it felt weird not to be sitting in a place she was familiar with.

"How was the rest of your year since the last time I saw you?" Draco asked Scorpius, and Rose watched as he launched into a long spiel of every event he'd done in the month and a half since the last time they'd all seen each other. When he finished, Draco turned to her. "And you, Rose? How has the rest of the year been for you?"

"Alright, I guess," she murmured, staring down at the wooden table. "Are these the official plans for the stadium?"

"Yes, they are. Glad you brought this up. Your mum and I got to talking, and we decided that we can get this thing up and built faster if we enlist some help. Actually, a lot of help. Thankfully, Viktor -"

"Uncle Viktor?" Rose interrupted, turning to her mother. Hermione nodded, and Draco continued.

"Yes, him. He recommend a whole slew of businesses that will be helping us get supplies and even manpower to build the rest of the stadium. You'll have to make sure to thank him," he shot a look at his son, "because without him, we might not have been able to finish this thing on time."

"I'll write a letter to him later tonight," Rose said, squirming in her seat for a moment. She turned to her mother, taking a deep breath. "How's Hugo?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "He's alright. One of Mr. Malfoy's colleagues is taking care of him over break, and Aunt Ginny and Ms. Greengrass are visiting him everyday."

"My mum's going to see him?" Scorpius piped up.

Hermione nodded. "She's just returning the favor." The tone in her voice told the children to not bring it up again, and so they made a mental note not to.

"So what do we do now?" Scorpius asked, looking between the two adults.

"Well, since it's snowing outside today, I thought it might be a nice idea to take the two of you to Hogsmeade since most of our break will consist of getting the foundation down for the field and such," Hermione said, watching her daughter carefully to see her reactions. "Then, I plan on coming back here and looking up a couple of things in the library that I haven't been able to find anywhere else."

"The library, Granger? Really?"

Rose watched Mr. Malfoy's face as he spoke to her mother. There, behind the venomous tone in his voice, laid a glow in his eyes, which were wider than they had been before. If she hadn't figured it out before, she did then:

Scorpius's father fancied her mother.

 _No!_ One of the voices in her head immediately cried, wailing at the comprehension. Rose could practically feel her blood start to boil as her eyes narrowed at the blonde man sitting across from her. Her parents belonged together, not these two people. And, from what her father had said, this man had been so rude to her mother when they were her age that Rose couldn't understand why they were sitting across from each other and playfully bantering back and forth about her mother's obsession with all things old and dusty.

Rose got up then, glaring at both adults and turned dramatically, barging out of the Great Hall with tears in her eyes.

As soon as she was around the corner, she slid down against the wall onto the floor and gave into her sobs, feeling her shoulders shake as they raked through her body.

She didn't even hear the sound of footsteps coming from where she had just been.

"Your mother seems to think that you hate her." Rose looked up, glaring at the man sitting beside her. He barely even flinched as he wiped his hands on his designer dress pants and they left dirt marks on his upper thighs.

"Maybe I do," she muttered, resting her chin on her knees and staring at the brick wall across from her.

"Why? She loves you."

Rose snorted, rolling her eyes. "No, she doesn't."

"What makes you say that?"

"If she did, she shouldn't have left my father for some rich guy who decided to kill a mastermind at age sixteen."

Draco stared down at the red-headed girl next to him. She seemed so tiny but so strong, much like her mother. Her eyes were clear despite being filled with tears, and Draco noticed the twitch in her left eye, almost like she was trying to hide something. "Your parents definitely did not divorce because of me. Your mother and I hadn't spoken since we graduated at nineteen."

" _Right_." Rose rolled her eyes, settling her head back against the brick behind her. Draco did the same.

"Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to." Rose shrugged her response. "Do you ever… hear voices sometimes? Or even your own voice, telling you to feel something different than what you want?" Draco watched as her eyes slid to look at him out of the corner of her left one.

"Yeah, I'm a freak. I already know that."

Draco frowned. "Who told you that?"

"Some of my housemates. It's okay, though. They hear me in the bathroom when I talk to the mirror."

He nodded. "I talked to myself in a mirror once. Ended up in the infirmary for a little over a week, but still."

"But I don't think it talked back to you."

He smirked. "No, but I did spend the next five minutes attempting to _Crucio_ your Uncle, but I could never cast the spell."

Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

"He hit me with a now-unforgivable curse that my godfather had invented. That's how I ended up in the infirmary."

" _Crucio_ 's a really nasty curse," Rose said, glaring at Draco.

"So is _fiendfyre_ ," he countered, craning his head to see is his son or Hermione were venturing this way. "So, are the voices telling you to hate your mom?"

She shook her head. "Not all the time. I'm always conflicted, like I feel bad but I'm mad but I just want to lay in bed and sleep all day. Madame Pomfrey says there's nothing she can do for me."

"No, there isn't." He paused, looking down at her again. "Now, I know you're pretty smart. And I know that you know about how your mother's genes mixed with your father's genes have made your brother sick -"

"That's part of why I'm mad at her."

"- And I just want you to know that she feels absolutely horrible about it. I also think you're smart enough to realize that those voices aren't normal."

Rose nodded.

"So, I want you to tell your mother what you're feeling. I think it would be good for the two of you."

"Why should I listen to you?" Rose stood from her spot and glared down at the adult man. "You think you can just sit there and pretend like me telling my mum what I'm feeling will change everything about how angry I am at her? Because of _her_ , Hugo's dying. Because of _her_ I have a Muggle mental disease that is ten times worse because of my magical blood, too. Because of _her_ , I'm here in this castle instead of with my father, who actually lets me do what the voices say because he thinks it's a gift from Merlin!" She spun on her heel then, running away from him.

Draco sighed, standing and pushing his right hand through his hair. This was definitely going to be harder than he thought.

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 **Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you loved it, hated it, or just wanna say hi!**

 **~QueenRoyallt**


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